


Be Careful What You Wish For

by SASundance



Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode: s06e11 Silent Night, Fix-It, Gen, Gibbs sucks as a leader, I hate zingers which aren't in context or have no consequences, Not for Gibbs fans, Not for McGee fans, Not for Ziva Fans, Not suitable for the Team-is-family fans, Tom Morrow saves the day, Tony DiNozzo Leaves NCIS Team, Words have consequences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-17 06:53:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SASundance/pseuds/SASundance
Summary: Gibbs was way out of line with his remark about Tony in Silent Night S6 E11 when Abby asked him what he was getting for Tony for Christmas and he replied, "An attitude adjustment."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a tag which I wrote back in 2014 in response to the episode Silent Night, specifically a Jethro Gibbs zinger. The abject cruelty of Gibbs' remark that he was getting DiNozzo an attitude adjustment for Christmas has always incensed me. It was so out of left-field, it was cruel and unfunny. IMO it seemed to be little more than gratuitous Tony bashing, something that became increasingly prevalent as the character grew in popularity. It was simply thrown out there without any reason and then there was follow-up, no resolution - just another pot shot from the guy who's own attitude is far from perfect. 
> 
> The redoubtable Arress beta'ed this story when it was first published on FF.net but in reposting it here, I've taken the opportunity to tweak it a little. Any boo-boos are my bad.  
And for people who favour the 'team is one big happy family' trope, this is not the story for you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs was way out of line with his remark about Tony in Silent Night S6 E11 when Abby asked him what he was getting for Tony for Christmas and he replied, "An attitude adjustment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a tag which I wrote back in 2014 in response to the episode Silent Night, specifically a Jethro Gibbs zinger. The abject cruelty of that remark Gibbs made, that he was getting DiNozzo an attitude adjustment for Christmas was an attitude has always incensed me. It was so out of left-field and was cruel and appeared to be little more than gratuitous Tony bashing, something that became increasingly prevalent as the character grew in popularity. The redoubtable Arress beta'ed this story when it was first published on FF.net but in reposting it here, I've taken the opportunity to tweak it a little. Any boo-boos are my bad.

Abby grabbed him in a fierce hug. Yeah, sure, she was a hugger of epic proportions, but this was more than a little over the top, even for Abby. Tony actually felt as if his intestines were in danger of being squeezed out of his mouth and he couldn't say that the experience was one that he was enjoying. Much as he hated to hurt his friend's feelings, he was beginning to feel rather woozy and he knew she would feel crap if he… um, took a short nap (since DiNozzo's didn't pass out). 

_Time to speak up, Anthony!_

"Um, Abs, need to breathe please." He winced in spite of himself.

"Oh-my-gosh, Tony. I'm so sorry," she apologised, and it occurred to him somewhat idly that Gibbs never dared to tell the Goth that apologies were a sign of weakness. He guessed that he couldn't bring himself to be a bastard to their favourite lab rat.

Seeing her continued distress after releasing him, he put his arms around her comfortingly.

"Hey, hey, what 'sup, Sweet Cheeks?" He asked her. Surely, he hadn't upset her that much, had he?

"He didn't mean it, Tony, because you know that he loves us all… right? You know that dontcha… sure you do. Cuz we're his Gibblettes, the Bombe to his Alaska, the yin to his yang, the mozzarella to his pizza, the banana to his split…"

Knowing that Abby could potentially keep this up ‘til he was old and grey, he gently placed his hand over her mouth to stem the flow of verbal diarrhoea that was in full flow. He gathered that his mentor had said or done something to upset Abby and if that was the case, he would personally tear him a new one. What the Hell had he thinking?

Maybe on second thought, he would just make him put the Goth back together and in her 'happy space'.

"What did Gibbs do to you?" He asked her, feeling his blood pressure rise.

Looking at her biting her lower lip, he decided that perhaps he needed to sabotage Gibbs' caffeine intake to teach him not to hurt Abby as he took his hand away from her mouth.

"He's just being a grouch, I'm sure he didn't mean it," she averred, tears threatening to overflow her pale green eyes.

Privately, Tony thought that Gibbs seldom said anything he didn't mean. The man was a functional mute after all, so when he said something it was usually a pretty accurate representation of what he was thinking or feeling, but he kept that belief to himself right now. "It's okay, Abbs, just tell me what he did to you."

"Um, not me… I asked him what he thought you wanted for Christmas and he said an attitude adjustment… but, Tony, you know he didn't mean it, right? He was just in a bad mood and being a grouch.

"I love your attitude… you're the glue that holds us together, you're the heart and soul of the team. If it weren't for you, the Boss-man and Maddie wouldn't still be with us anymore. Can I give you a hug again, Tony? Please?"

He opened his arms and she flew into them, proceeding to hug him almost as tight as before as he kissed her hair and murmured a litany of comforting nonsense in her ear and she quietened. Sighing, she finally let him go and he heaved a silent sigh of relief to be able to breathe normally again… well, for him anyway.

Catching her hand, he dragged her towards the elevator.

"C'mon, Abbs, let's power down your babies and I'll drive you home," he instructed her in a tone that brooked no objections.

Pushing aside his own feelings of hurt about Gibbs' comment, he resolved not to think about it until after he'd settled down his high-strung friend. As Gibbs' undisputed favourite on his team, on the odd occasion when he was short with her, Abby totally fell apart.

It brought back some dark memories of when he'd gone off to Mexico with barely a ‘kiss my ass’ and Abby hadn't dealt with Gibbs abandoning her well at all.

Okay... so none of them had, but Abby, in particular, was inconsolable. He knew because it had been his job to try and console her, and like everything else he was supposed to be doing during the four months before his Lordship final deigned to come home, Tony had failed miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an update on my writing status after a horror year where RL prevented me from writing. I'm almost finished work on my long-running WIP Rising to the Bait. While I'm mortified it has taken me so long to complete it, I'm finally happy with the ending and hope to post the final chapters in the coming weeks. When RTTB is completed, I'll focus on posting my 2019 Quantum Bang story here too.


	2. Reinventing Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DiNozzo tries to give Gibbs what he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gratified to hear other people also share my abhorrence at the totally unamusing zinger – there was absolutely no rhyme or reason that I could see for such a gratuitously ugly remark. No way it could be explained away this time as a joke (al a s01e20 Missing), as teasing or Tony having stepped too far over the line. It was whoa, were the heck did that come from? Also, I wasn't amused at the way the team treated him when Detective Kemp appeared, and it was revealed he married an ex of Tony's. The team’s reaction combined with what Gibbs said to Abby, just added up to a whole lot of nastiness. 
> 
> Warning: Ziva fans will probably take offence at content in this chapter so if you do choose to read this fic, don’t come crying to me because I warned you.  
Beta'ed by Arress

After the Christmas break, everyone noticed that Tony seemed different.

Christmas had always been a particularly painful time of the year for him and this year had additional challenges as well. He'd run into Justin Kemp, the metro detective who ended up marrying an old girlfriend of Tony's that he'd been quite serious about. The contact had inevitably led to thoughts of his ill-fated love affair with Jeanne Benoit, it was still a festering suppurating sore that wouldn’t heal.

While they'd been staking out the Washington Memorial on Christmas Eve, Ziva had gone straight for his soft underbelly, wanting to know if he'd ever regretted not getting married or having kids. Seriously?

Was she freakin kidding or what? It was only last year he'd had his heart ripped apart after he'd come so close to moving in with the beautiful Doctor Benoit. And for him, it didn't get much more serious than that. Since Wendy left him practically at the altar, he'd been seriously commitment-phobic, and any wonder? Both times he'd be foolish enough to open up his heart and the result was that he’d ended up broken-hearted. 

_Ha! Broken – more like crushed, shattered, his heart turned to dust, ripped out of his chest, irrevocably petrified..._

He’d sometimes wondered if Ziva David had been the sort of kid who went around ripping the wings off butterflies for fun. What was he thinking…of course she was! What else would a mini-in-training Mossad assassin do for fun? Unless perhaps she was amputating the legs off still live frogs and cooking them for lunch.

She’d been so damned merciless in her pursuit of him, with an implacable predator's instinct to draw blood. Was it any wonder he ended up rushing out into the snow just to get away from her, even if being out in the frigid air was the last thing his lungs needed right now?

Then to cap it all off, there was the perilous state of his relationship with his mentor and the team, which had been off for a while now. Put it all together and throw in Gibbs saying he needed an attitude adjustment -well it all added up to one heck of a sucky Christmas!

Returning to the office after the Christmas break, people noticed the change. He was quiet, reserved, and haughtily polite, and his 1000-watt grin and jokes were conspicuously absent. Who wouldn’t see it?

His teammates noted that the endless comparison to situations in movies had ceased, while many of his contemporaries commented upon the freaky stillness of the man who was infamous for his inability to stay still for longer than a few minutes. He was frequently observed sitting unmoving at his desk for hours at a time, focused on his computer and seemingly unaware of what was happening around him.

He failed to join in the so-called banter that Team Gibbs was renowned for, too.

Ziva and McGee, although initially concerned, found that after Tony assured them that he was fine, enjoyed the absence of teasing, the constant references to movies, the insatiable need for attention, and the unquenchable curiosity into their private lives. It was like he was a carbon copy of Tony physically, but that was where the similarities ended.

Meanwhile, Gibbs was suitably suspicious that Tony was up to some highly elaborate prank or that he was perhaps ill or something. That was initially. DiNozzo seemed fine though, and to be honest, he too liked the peace and quiet in the bullpen. They got a lot of paperwork done and it was high time DiNozzo grew up.

Over the course of the week, though, they all found that the change in the bullpen wasn't quite as desirable as they'd imagined it would be. Just after Christmas, they picked up a case that was bound to press all of Gibbs' buttons. The wife of a serving Marine master sergeant was sexually assaulted and died from head injuries sustained as she fought off her attacker. To make matters worse, the assault had taken place on-base housing with the couple's five-year-old son sleeping in the next room who woke up the next morning to find his mother lying in a pool of blood.

All that meant, of course, that Gibbs turned into someone completely feral, pushing the team past even his usual unreasonable expectations. He wouldn’t let them go home, eat or sleep. He was beyond desperate to find the killer.

Initially, Ziva and McGee relished the fact that Tony didn't seem interested in playing the one-upmanship game that Gibbs used to try to wring out every last drop of effort from his team. Rather than having to compete with Tony, they just had to compete against each other, and McGee, in particular, felt that it was now his turn to shine. He always felt his contributions were seriously underrated by everyone on the team, especially by Tony. Now was his big chance to bask in the glow, but the trouble was that no matter what information he came up with, it wasn't enough for their driven boss in his current mood.

Gibbs was always a hard taskmaster and he always pushed them all way past their limits, but this case had sent him into a new stratosphere of bastardry. McGee and Ziva kept looking over at Tony, silently begging him to crack a joke, to lighten the mood in the bullpen, but he kept his head down, focused on finding leads.

As the case progressed, Ziva and McGee, not to mention the rest of the bullpen, expected the senior field agent to step up. To literally put his body on the line to deflect the fallout from Gibbs' frustration and anger away from the junior members of the team, and everyone else in the office, too. It was what he routinely did, but Tony seemed oblivious to the tension in the bullpen, though.

He kept his head down and his mouth shut - only speaking to deliver leads or information directly pertaining to the case. Gibbs became progressively more disturbed by their lack of progress and stepped up the yelling, head slaps and abuse. Ziva and McGee kept prodding Tony, trying to get him to respond in his usual moronic fashion. Unfortunately, he seemed heedless to everyone's distress.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Tim McGee realised with a sense of dismay that with the increasing tension in the office, he was beginning to stutter around Gibbs again. He'd done that early on when he'd joined the team, but thought he was over that nervous affliction long ago. Obviously not!

And as Gibbs fumed, stalked, yelled, demanded and made it abundantly clear that the team wasn't giving him the leads he needed to find the killer, the junior agent came to see just how much Tony's juvenile behaviour shielded him from Gibbs' anger and his obsessive personality.

When the SFA's jokes and pranks weren't there to deflect their fearless leader from taking his frustrations out on the team for not producing the results he demanded, McGee realised finally what they'd taken for granted. Until now!

_The old phrase, you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone was indeed an apt one._

It was now blatantly clear that when all else failed, Tony had fearlessly thrown himself in the path of the Gibbs-bomb, triggering it to release the unbearable tension in the bullpen where it was impossible to breathe, let alone think. With all the benefits of hindsight, McGee belatedly grasped the fact that Tony used a cavalierly suicidal remark, a ribald joke, or even a seemingly tactless comment about Gibbs' disposition, to set him off. He'd always marvelled at how incredibly dumb Tony was to be caught repeatedly making remarks behind Gibbs' back, but perhaps it hadn't been as unintentional as he'd always assumed.

Now he realised that it happened far too frequently for it to be a coincidence. Particularly as it wasn't happening all of a sudden, which sort of suggested it had all been premeditated. He castigated himself for breaking rule #8, never assume. Just because Tony looked and acted like a dumbass didn't necessarily make it so.

But something had changed, and it was like a clone had replaced the real DiNozzo with someone completely different. He worked almost silently, typing at the keyboard like a professional typist, not the one-fingered variety of poking the keyboard that Tim was used to seeing from the childish agent.

_Had that too been an act?_

Tony wasn't deflecting their leader's ire any longer and the tension was ratcheted up to unbearable proportions. Tim felt his body, including his neural synapses (which he thought of as his secret weapon), had either gone on strike or run away screaming like a little child. After more than four years working for Gibbs, he couldn't concentrate nor anticipate his requests, and he knew that his boss was getting increasingly pissed off with him.

Truth to tell, he’d gotten unbelievably pissed off with the whole team, really.

As Tim found himself turning into an emotional wreck, it also didn't escape his notice that Tony, while not displaying any of his erratic brilliance punctuated by moments of sheer idiocy and childishness, was working with a feverish intensity. The sheer volume of intelligence he was producing was staggering and McGee realised he in comparison was finding it increasingly impossible to function.

And damn it, DiNozzo was making him and Ziva look bad!

Trying to get things back to normal, Tim attempted some icebreakers about movies that the case could be compared to, and Ziva joined in gratefully, sharing her observations, with her typically atrocious mangling of idiomatic phrases. Several times after her struggling with an idiom, both junior agents looked over, silently begging Tony to correct her attempts at colloquialisms and pop culture references. Sadly, for them, Tony's expression remained impassive and he kept concentrating on the intelligence-gathering he was focused on. He didn't even react in his usual fashion when Gibbs crept up behind him and let him have it with a pretty vicious head slap, loudly demanding that he quit wasting time and give him a lead.

Frowning, Tim realised that following the head slap Tony didn't leap a mile in his seat, didn't scream like a wounded child, didn't pout, didn't scowl at his teammates when they smirked at his discomfort, didn't thank Gibbs for hitting him, didn't apologise profusely, explain or show any expression. He remained utterly impassive like a zombie.

His only reaction had been to give the scantest of verbal response – a soft "Yes, Gibbs."

_Since when did Tony refer to the boss by his last name? _

Ah, darn it; would this case, this day, this hour never end. Even though the MCRT worked killer hours (much more than any other team at NCIS) the time usually seemed to fly by. Up until now, Tim hadn't realised how much of that was down to the banter and camaraderie that their senior field agent had been exuding. He hoped whatever the heck was wrong with him that DiNozzo would get it together before Gibbs killed them all.

Leaping half out of his chair as Gibbs snuck up behind him, he leaned in with a frightening intensity to murmur menacingly in his ear, "I want something when I get back, Elf-lord, or you'll be back in the cyber basement so fast your computer bits will bob. Are we clear, McGee?"

He emphasised his threat with a Gibbs’ slap to the back of his head that had Tim seeing stars and stuttering a tortured, “No B...b...oss.”

Shooting a look across at Tony, expecting him to be laughing at his misfortune, once again he was shocked to his core to see the SFA seemingly oblivious to what was going on.

Who the hell was this doppelganger...this pod person and what had he done with Tony?


	3. Self- Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the case solved, Tony takes time to evaluate his performance and comes to a realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to respond to a reviewer who thought Tony seemed depressed. Christmas is a difficult holiday for many lonely people and I think that Tony qualifies here. He had also been through a really bad time in the year or so before this episode took place. One which would drive many people to reach for antidepressants or sleeping tablets, plus Domino had taken place not long before. 
> 
> Arress beta'ed this chapter and has my eternal gratitude and any boo-boos are my bad. No really, the woman's a saint. She doesn't just wrangle my recalcitrant commas into submission either, she feeds my silliness and we bounce ideas off each other and she has a great recall for canon details that makes my life so much easier. Betas are a rare breed and they don't get nearly enough recognition!

Ziva winced as she listened to Tim stumble and stutter his way through his presentation of the results of his investigation into the security tapes before moving onto the financial examination of Juliette Clarkson, the dead wife of Marine Master Sergeant Clarkson. Tim seemed to get more nervous as he went along, and when Tony made no attempt to help him out of the hole he was digging for himself or try to take advantage of the disaster waiting to happen, Ziva realised it was her chance to earn bluey points with Gibbs.

Never one to let an opportunity slip by, she snatched the clicker from the highly agitated junior agent and sashayed up to take centre stage. Having milked her extensive collection of contacts in the States and internationally, she proceeded to give an account of what she had discovered, before moving to her interviews with the neighbours and relatives.

Which Gibbs wasted no time in pointing out amounted to a_ whole lotta nothing, David_. He told her to find them a viable lead, or he'd personally put her onto the next flight to Tel Aviv.

That pissed off the former assassin since while she acknowledged that she hadn't produced any viable leads, Tony had taught her that genius… well, okay, in this case finding leads on a case, was one percent inspiration and 99 percent respiration. You had to do lots of heavy breathing to break a case. So instead of focusing on the one percent that she hadn't found yet, Gibbs should be happy she'd ruled out many possibilities. Surely, that meant they were that much closer to an answer.

_Still, in his current unreasonable mood, she wasn’t about to the jab the bear like Tony did. _

Nodding, she replied compliantly even if she felt mutinous. "Yes, Gibbs, I will get right on it." She returned to her desk as she and Tim waited, curious to see what Tony would produce.

He stood up, walked swiftly to the plasma and commenced sharing the background check he'd done on the family before moving on to the profile he was developing on the killer. Tony reported that when complete he would have Abby submit it to CODIS (Combined DNA Index System) and ViCAP (Violent Criminal Apprehension Program) to see if they scored any hits.

Before anyone had a chance to comment, he hurried on to reveal that he'd also contacted the surrounding PDs to see if they had any similar outstanding or even solved cases before expanding the search to include NCIS, the MPs and other branches of the Armed Services, and he'd already begun compiling a list of People Of Interest. He'd also started compiling a second list of suspects who'd committed home invasions or house break-ins with the rationale that even rapists and killers might initially start by panicking when confronted in a house they thought was empty and merely intent on burglary.

Before anyone had a chance to venture an opinion, Tony had hurried on to report that he was currently checking the sexual offender databases for any similarities in MOs and had sent out alerts to his contacts with the surrounding LEOs. Ziva, while secretly impressed with the volume of information he'd managed to tug together so fast, was nevertheless disgruntled with her teammate. Was he deliberately trying to make her, and McGee look like a couple of bumbling newbers?

_How had he managed to get so much done anyway? _

While she was used to him trying to impress Gibbs and one-up them when they were presenting information, he usually seemed to have done a minimal amount of work. It always seemed as if he just pulled significant leads out of whispy air, but this was different. This made her and Tim look as if they were sitting around twiddling their pinkies, and she for one wouldn't put up with it.

As she tried to figure out what she should be focusing on next to try to get back into Gibbs' happy books, she realised belatedly that all the constant irritating juvenile chatter wasn't just infuriating timewasting as she had always thought. The joking around, especially the movie quotes, descriptions and analysis, was always a good indicator of what Tony was thinking.

Although she would rather walk around naked than admit it to him, giving them an insight into his thought processes via his cinematic examples, Tony often gave them a chance to barnstorm ideas off each other. This inevitably led to them coming up with an abundant number of possibilities to check out, which almost always produce at least one solid lead at the end of the process.

And by naked, Ziva meant walking around without benefit of any of her five throwing knives, two others for slitting throats and the three guns that she habitually wore concealed on her body. Personally, she would much rather walk around without her clothes than her arsenal of weapons. She worked hard on maintaining her physique, used it as additional artillery, but to be bereft of her weapons? Just the thought was enough for her to break out in a cold sweat.

But the absence of her arsenal right now was a hoot point because Tony wasn't giving anything away. Maybe he had finally realised that he was being too generous with his thoughts and decided to keep them to himself to suck down on Gibbs. Although if that was his reason, then it didn't seem to be working very well as Gibbs seemed to be more irritated with Tony than he usually was.

That wouldn't normally worry the Mossad liaison officer unduly since she liked to be the one that Gibbs huddled up to. The problem was that whatever Tony was up to, it wasn't just making Gibbs pissed with him, they were all bearing the grunt of his temper.

Ziva was ready to kill someone with a paperclip, and Tim looked like someone had just shot his guppy!

Be Careful What You Wish For

Tony closed the front door of his apartment and dropped his backpack on the floor near the door. Peeling off his jacket and removing his tie and shoes, he padded over to the sofa and collapsed onto the leather upholstery in a boneless heap. He'd been working 20-hour days until they'd finally closed the case of the dead wife of the Marine after they got a positive hit from the CODIS Database, giving them the lead that they needed to break the case. They'd arrested the brother of a female Marine corporal who had a thing for Juliette Clarkson's physical type.

There was no comfort in finding her killer. She was still dead, the Master Sergeant was still a widower and the little five-year-old boy was still motherless, even though they caught the dirtbag. The only consolation was that this wasn't the scumbag's first rape and murder, so at the very least by getting him off the streets, hopefully, he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else… at least for a while.

Still, Tony couldn't help but think of the little boy growing up without his mother's love. He knew that his own mother wasn't exactly the poster child for maternal affection and nurturance, but all he knew was despite her deficiencies, including being drunk half of the time, his life was even worse when she left him as an eight-year-old. He hoped the Master Sergeant turned out to be a better father than Senior had.

Aware that his stomach was growling because it was so long since he'd eaten a proper meal, in truth Tony was just too damn exhausted to get up and look for food, far less cook anything. He was also too whacked to have a shower or even climb into a warm comfy bed. Although a little cold, he couldn't even be bothered trying to remedy the situation. And now that the case was done, he couldn't ignore the bitter truth anymore.

Gibbs had been an absolute bear to work with through the whole damned case, despite the fact Tony had tried hard to give him what he wanted - an attitude adjustment. Yet he'd obviously failed to deliver… again. He was always disappointing the Boss it would seem.

Despite being quiet, focused and professional all the time and working his butt off looking for the killer, Gibbs was still yelling at him… at all of them. He made sure that he didn't make jokes or tease McGee or Ziva, but they all seemed angry at him. So, he wasn't sure, but he must have done something stupid. It wouldn't be the first time, but he was thinking that it was probably the last time

If he was being honest with himself for once in his life, they hadn't really been a team for a long time now. Gibbs had told Abby that he needed an attitude adjustment, but clearly that wasn't going to fix what had been broken. Maybe what Gibbs really meant was he wanted a complete change of attitude in his agent as in a totally different person.

Maybe once Tony left, he would settle down and stop taking his frustration out on the junior team members. After all, they didn't get Jen Shepard killed. Nor did they deliberately conceal the fact that they were on an undercover assignment working, for the director for almost a year.

It was clear, despite his protestations to the contrary about the La Grenouille debacle, that his boss didn't have faith in Tony anymore since he chose not to share the details of the Domino sting with him. Even though there was no directive from the top i.e. Vance or SecNav, preventing him from being read in on the mission that it was a trap to catch a mole, Gibbs hadn't trusted him.

He’d made a conscious, informed decision to keep him in the dark. And didn’t that speak volumes about the fact that his boss no longer had faith in him to do the job he’d been hired to do?

In fact, Gibbs had told Abby about the sting, but not him, and everyone knew that Abby couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it. She sucked at it! Let's face it; her behaviour had been a dead giveaway that something big was going on. Everyone was talking about it and the so-called excuse about not wanting to tip Lee off because she had killed Langer and Gibbs was worried that Lee was dangerous, was crap.

Abby was in much more danger than he would have been. He had 12 years of law enforcement experience, and hello … he was one of the best in the business when it came to undercover work. Apart from which, when they were finally read in because the circumstances dictated it, no one tipped her off, not even McGee who sucked at undercover or keeping secrets almost as much as Abby did.

And he couldn’t overlook the fact that he'd been the last member of the team to get his place back after the team was split up. Gibbs hadn't even bothered to stay in contact with him. The one time he'd video-conferenced with his old boss in the four months he'd been exiled had been strictly case related, and even then, he'd seemed uncomfortable.

There hadn't even been a single email to check on how he was doing even though Tony sent him a weekly how–ya-doing. Well, until he realised that Gibbs didn't care how he was getting on and wouldn't bother answering his enquiries. He hadn't even said goodbye to him apart from a perfunctory, almost abrupt handshake in Jenny's outer office after her sham of a funeral.

It was clear to him that Gibbs still blamed him for Jenny's death, not that he blamed his boss at all since Tony blamed himself, too. And he had to face it; the mole had been his probie while Gibbs was down in Mexico busy growing a small furry animal on his upper lip, so he probably was angry that he'd never realised she was a traitor. If he had, then Brett Langer would still be alive. Gibbs was no doubt wishing that he still had him as his senior field agent since he was the epitome of a professional agent. He knew for a fact that Gibbs never had to head slap Langer, either.

Well, it was long past time, but he knew when it was time to go. If his father had done nothing else for him, he'd taught him at an early age that he wasn't a keeper - that he was destined was to disappoint those closest to him. The very least he could do for his mentor was to read between the lines and leave before Gibbs was forced to fire him. He might not be all that smart (and Senior made it pretty plain that he was stupid), even so, he could see the inevitable.

Resolving to make a couple of phone calls tomorrow since it was Saturday and they'd been given the weekend off, he decided that he'd start afresh once again. He tried to figure out what persona he should adopt in his next job, in light of the shambolic mess he'd made of his newest personality this week, which clearly wasn't a goer. Too exhausted to keep his eyes open anymore he fell into an unhappy, troubled sleep.

Tony woke up next morning, wrung out like a wet dishcloth, but determined to see through the decisions he reached the night before. This had all happened because he'd forgotten an immutable truth that he'd learned the hard way when he was 12.

Anthony DiNozzo was fundamentally flawed. He was so flawed that his own father felt compelled to disown him and ship him off to RIMA. You don't get much more flawed than that...not when a parent is supposed to love their kid unconditionally. Yet Anthony Senior hadn’t been able to love him, couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.

Ergo, he was such an obnoxious kid, such a loser that his own flesh and blood couldn't wait to get rid of him.

Add his ex-fiancé, Wendy, to the list, who'd dumped him the night before the wedding and, well, that sure makes a lasting impression on a guy. She’d obviously seen the writing on the wall, same as dear old Dad and now Gibbs.

There was no point in kidding himself that he was a good person, but he was a damned good actor, and could at least pretend to be normal, hide his flaws, make people like him. At least for a while, but because it wasn't real, he just had to move on to the next gig (like any good actor, really) before anyone discovered his secret. And likewise, he could pretend to be the playboy, the life of the party, and the consummate lover who would give all of the women who went out with him such a good time that they never took time to see any of the flaws. Then before he wore out his welcome, Tony would break off his relationships or hand in his resignation and pick up and move on to the next town or woman.

Until he’d stupidly forgotten all the rules when he came to DC and ended up outstaying his welcome. He'd stayed here much longer than the obligatory two-year stint, and his flaws had become glaringly obvious to everyone that was important to him. Even worse, he'd let himself fall in love again and he ended up hurting an innocent person when she finally learnt who he really was.

Hell, even he didn't know who he was. He was a concoction – style but no substance, smoke and mirrors – it was never going to be enough. 

Time to start over!

Picking up the phone, he dialled resolutely. "Hi, Sir, it's Anthony DiNozzo; I was wondering if you had a few minutes to talk? You do? That's great. Just wondering if you meant what you said the last time we talked?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a list of Ziva-isms used in the chapter:
> 
> bluey points = brownie points, genius is… one percent inspiration and 99 percent respiration = one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration.   
bumbling newbers = bumbling newbies  
pulling a lead out of whispy air = pulling a lead out of thin air  
twiddling their pinkies = twiddle their thumbs  
wouldn't sit for it = wouldn't stand for it  
back into Gibbs' happy books = back into Gibbs' good books  
barnstorm ideas = brainstorm ideas  
was a hoot point = was a moot point   
suck down on Gibbs = suck up to Gibbs   
bearing the grunt of his temper = bearing the brunt of his temper (although he grunts a lot, especially when he is angry...so all the time)   
shot his guppy = shot his puppy.


	4. Confusion is Nothing New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs decompresses from the case in his typical three B fashion - boat, bourbon, basement - while pondering about his SFA.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Back in 2014 when I wrote this I was much more of an apologist than I am now. This was my A/N:  
"Anyhow I'm admitting to a degree of trepidation about this one since it isn't a 'Gibbs is a warm and fuzzy papa bear 'type of chapter but then again, I don't actually see him in that way. Nor is it a 'Gibbs has a damned good reason for acting like an ass and he's trying to teach DiNozzo some valuable lesson, which is obscure but well-intentioned' type of chapter, either because frankly, I don't believe that. This is a 'Gibbs has a serious anger management issue, along with a massive sense of entitlement, not to mention a serious lack of insight' sort of a chapter. 
> 
> After watching his less than admirable behaviour in a rerun of season eight episode Two Faced the other night when his double B behaviour was clearly apparent, I decided that it is a no-brainer why Tim and Ziva don't respect the Chain of Command or their SFA. Seeing him encourage them to disobey Barrett, who technically was the lead agent on the case, and seeing his own disrespect for her, making it more a question of why the heck wouldn't they? During the scene in interrogation, when he intimidated her into relinquishing up her chair in the presence of their suspect, it had me praying that she'd win the confrontation even though I knew it was lay-down misère that he’d emerge on top. After all, it’s his show. But I wanted him smacked down hard for his disgusting behaviour. Suck a bully and a jerk!
> 
> This chapter hasn't been beta'ed ... just proofed by me. More fireworks next chapter."
> 
> Circa 2019 notes: LOL - I'm far less of an apologist these days or worried that I might get trolled by readers who don't like my views. In the last five years, I've been stalked and threatened, flamed and trolled but I'm still here. So if you think that Gibbs is a tragically misunderstood hero and I've treated him unfairly, I really don't care. Read this chapter at your own peril. I am no fan of Leroy Jethro Gibbs and if that upsets you go and read one of the many stories that excuse a murderer working as a federal agent on his grief over his wife and daughter's deaths.

Gibbs sat in the soothing silence of his basement, interspersing the hush against the gently sibilant sigh of his rhythmic sanding which he'd learnt to match to his breathing for maximum effect. He liked to think the time spent sanding his boat was akin to a form of deep contemplation. And with the added benefit that he didn't have to get togged up in those fancy-ass pyjamas either that the neighbourhood Tai Chi proponents wore while practising each morning.

He loved working the wood, shaping it to his will, creating something of beauty out of an insensate lump of lumber. Something which, in theory when she was finished, could sail him across the oceans to the farthest reaches of the earth. Fanciful…quite possibly, since he was a workaholic, not to say a bad-tempered, unimaginative bastard according to his ex-wives. It was not likely he would ever set sail in her but hey, a guy could dream, couldn't he?

The truth was that working on the boat was pretty much the only thing that helped him remain sane. The elegant, pleasing lines of his special girl pacified his angry soul in a way that nothing else could and helped him to focus. It also helped him to forget all the ugliness that was such a big part of his job.

Especially after this particular case, which pressed all his hot trigger buttons: a dead wife of a serving Marine, a shattered husband and a motherless little boy. So how could he not be reminded of his own losses and drive himself and the team to find the animal that destroyed that poor family? Now, he sanded the graceful curve of the ribs that he'd had worked upon so diligently, gazing at her lovingly. She was immeasurable strength coupled with classic style and he thanked his lucky stars daily for his beautiful lady.

He didn't know how he would have gotten through the last couple of nightmarish days without her to come home to. Unlike any of his ex-wives or girlfriends, she didn't demand more from him than he was prepared to give. She didn't whine, pout that his job meant more to him than she did. Didn't insist that they talk about their relationship and his feelings for her, or ask dumb ass questions about why he couldn't hurry up and finish his girl so she could take them sailing on the weekend or suggest that it would be quicker if he used power tools. She never cheated on him with his best friend or attacked him with sporting equipment when she got pissed with him for being an insensitive jerk.

Yeah, with the obvious exception of Shannon, of course, Jethro felt that his boat had been the most faithful companion he'd ever had a relationship with. Shame you couldn’t marry a boat.

After several hours of communing with his special lady, Jethro finally felt calm enough to consider the issue of DiNozzo. He'd come so close on this last case to committing justifiable DiNozzicide. He was used to his SFA being the perpetual frat boy but this time he went too damned far with his stupid joke. He had always been an attention whore. Ever since he first met him back in Baltimore, he'd sought out Jethro's approval and hated it when the junior team members earned Gibbs' praise or notice.

But damn it, during this case DiNozzo had truly outdone himself in a breathtaking example of narcissism when for some unfathomable reason he decided to stop being a team player. He’d just about killed himself trying to solve the case all on his own. He'd pretended to act mature and ended up cutting off the normal parry and thrust of observations and information for them to all feed off and which was the hallmark of the MCRT's success.

He’d been totally focused on trying to solve the whole damned case alone, no doubt so he got all the kudos, to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. Yep, DiNozzo had pissed him off big-time and Ziva and McGee didn't appreciate the SFA trying to show them up either. The tension in the bullpen was unbearable as a result.

He noted DiNozzo didn't have his partner's sixes in the bullpen while working this case, and the Elf Lord especially had fallen apart. Just because he'd understandably gotten a little hot under the collar when they didn’t deliver. Screw it!

DiNozzo was supposed to look after the juniors and shield them from his occasion excesses display of anger.

But no! That would be asking too much of the needy SFA.

He'd been too busy showboating with his stupid psych profiles and compiling of multiple suspect lists. And so, McGee had collapsed into a stuttering, stammering wreck, looking for all the world like a scared virgin in a brothel and froze up as he used to when he'd first joined the team. And no amount of head slaps would get the Elf Lord back on track and focused.

Gibbs didn't know what DiNozzo's problem was… well apart from the obvious!

But things had been rocky for a while now on the team and he figured he was gonna have to take him into the gym and kick his butt to force him to get his head on straight. He relied on DiNozzo to have his back and he couldn't put up with the crap that he had pulled during this last case.

DiNozzo needed to pull his head out of his ass or he'd make him sorry. Honestly, he wasn't sure what had crawled up his butt but it better stop. NOW!

He was probably still sulking, now he thought about it because Gibbs hadn't seen fit to read him in on the Domino plan. The hypocritical bastard had dared to get up in his face and lecture him about trust on the team when he'd been deceiving him for months on end over Jeanne Benoit and her arms dealer daddy. All the while his supposedly trustworthy 2IC was getting a little too friendly with his first protégé, Jen Shepard and conspiring together like a pair of children to keep him outta the loop.

He didn't know for sure if they were playing grab-ass together but he wouldn't rule it out. DiNozzo was renowned for sleeping with anything with a pulse and Jen wasn't averse to mixing business with pleasure as he knew from first-hand experience. 

That aside, DiNozzo needed to stop pouting about Domino, get over himself and suck it up. Gibbs team – Gibbs rules!

He was making sure his team stayed safe. Not his fault that they ended up injured just because Ziva and DiNozzo couldn't follow simple orders such as Do Not Engage!

Realising that it was almost New Year's Eve Jethro supposed DiNozzo might also have been bummed off because of Christmas. He asked Gibbs (like he did every damned year) to watch that dumb, sappy Christmas movie up in MTAC and like every other time he'd asked him before, Jethro blew him off.

My God! The man was clueless, why could he not get it through his thick skull that Gibbs had no intention of doing Christmas?

Well if that was what his problem was, it was about time he grew up or Gibbs would whoop his ass. He went to a helluva lot of trouble to get the clown back from the Sea Hawk, but days like today he honestly couldn't think of a single reason why he'd bothered.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Gibbs walked into the bullpen fresh after a weekend spent with his ladylove. His muscles might be a little on the stiff and sore side, after a marathon stint sanding but it was the good kinda sore, and his mind felt calm and clear. He felt ready and able to sort out DiNozzo and whip him back into shape. Actually, his palm was itching to deliver several well-placed head slaps and sort him out so that the team got back on track. Stopping, he noticed that DiNozzo hadn't arrived yet despite the fact that both McGee and Ziva were sitting at their desks looking productive, even if in truth, they were just checking out their emails.

Looking over at his desk, his saw a curious sight on the previously empty surface he'd cleared off before he left for the weekend. There was a rather large and expensive bottle of A. H. Hirsch Reserve bourbon replete with a huge red bow and a card attached. Wondering who it was from, he thought it would probably be an attempt by DiNozzo to apologise for his outrageous behaviour last week. Did he really think Gibbs could be bought off so easily?

Peering at the card without his glasses, because there wasn't anything wrong with his eyesight, he realised belatedly, it was from his old boss.

_Dear Jethro,_

_I guess this is part commiseration, part consolation. Your loss is definitely our gain. I can't believe he finally accepted my offer. Don't drink it all at once,_

_Your friend_

_Tom Morrow._

Trying to decipher the rather cryptic nature of the message, he groaned as his phone rang and Leon's assistant pertly informed him that his presence was required in the director's office ASAP. Just peachy, as DiNozzo would say. God, he missed Tom Morrow!

When he entered the office, Vance shoved a letter and two files into his hands and chewed on his damned dumbass toothpick while Gibbs struggled to read the letter. _(Although he didn't need glasses since there was nothing wrong with his eyesight)._

Glaring at his superior ferociously, he barked. "What the Hell do you call this, a joke? If so it's a piss poor one, Leon."

Scowling back at the pissed-off agent, the Director responded, "Absolutely not. It's exactly what it appears to be. DiNozzo's resignation, effective immediately and one of those two files is your new agent. McGee will be promoted to SFA of course. He did exceptionally well in cyber-crimes and more than deserves his promotion. Choose a probie."

"You're outta your tree, Vance.” Gibbs retorted insubordinately (and extremely imprudently, judging by the clenching of Vance’s jaw).

“I'd eat the Elf Lord for breakfast, just like I did last week. He MIGHT be ready to be SFA and I not saying I agree either but he's definitely not ready to be my SFA. On a bad day, I'll chew him up and spit him out within minutes. Look at my record before DiNozzo took the job.”

Glowering at Leon he announced, "Apart from which, I don't need a new SFA or even a probie cuz I'm not accepting Tony’s resignation, effective anytime! I can't believe you’d be moronic enough to even entertain the thought."

"Careful Gibbs, you're skating perilously close to insubordination right about now," Vance warned him frostily, before deciding to point out some salient facts.

"It doesn't matter if you accept his resignation or not. I'm the Director of this agency, not you. You made such a damn fuss about how the team couldn't function without him, so I allowed you to bring him back against my better judgement, but it was clearly a mistake,” he concluded harshly. 

“He failed to follow orders during Domino and he almost blew the Op and then there was that shambles, last week. You can't say that the team functioned well with all the screaming, yelling and tension that was going on in the bullpen. It was an unbearable atmosphere for anyone to work in. A toxic workplace, not just for your team but for everyone else who works down there, too."

Gibbs couldn't believe what a fool their new director was. Vance had a real set against DiNozzo from the get-go and he was just itching to get rid of him. By not keeping a tight enough rein on his team, he'd played right into Vance's hands and he was going to make it damned difficult to fix this FUBAR.

What the Hell was DiNozzo thinking? Had he lost his mind or was it an attention-seeking ploy? Damn him, he was way too high maintenance. He reminded Jethro of his ex-wives, Diane and Stephanie who always wanted him to pay attention to them; clingy, needy, driving him to drink bourbon in the basement.

If DiNozzo wasn't such an outstanding agent, not to mention the only one that he trusted to be his senior field agent (to watch his six in the field and in the bullpen too) he'd call his bluff just to teach him a god-damned lesson. But he couldn't afford to lose him, so he needed to track him down and drag him back where he belonged. And more importantly, he needed to do it before Abby got wind or his ass was toast.

Flying down the stairs to give the team instructions to get their paperwork in order so he could find DiNozzo, he looked at the extremely expensive bottle of bourbon and he froze, finally connecting the dots.

God Damn It! Morrow had poached his senior field agent and if he thought he was going to get away with it he had another thing coming. Roaring out of the Navy Yard, he drove like a lunatic straight to the Homeland Security building, demanding to see Assistant Director Thomas Morrow... right now!


	5. Truth Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs goes to see Tom and fireworks ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next one is DiNozzo-centric, pinky swear.  
Once again, this chapter isn't beta'ed. All errors are my bad.

Evidently Tom must have been expecting him since he had a fresh cup of coffee just the way he liked it, sitting on his desk. Seeing Gibbs bemused expression, he admitted, " I had Mac from NCIS security let me know when you went storming out of the building."

Feeling the betrayal wash over him, he scowled at the former Director of NCIS. "Damn you, Tom. I want him back and I want him back. NOW. What the Hell have you done with him?"

"He's not here, Jethro. He's at a security conference. He needs some time and some space and he's definitely not ready to talk to you yet. If I had my way, Hell would freeze over before you get to see him again. You broke him and I'm doing my best to try to put him back together again," Tom cautioned his former agent sternly.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was synonymous with pig-headed and Morrow had known that Gibbs was not going to take this lying down. Sighing at the thought of the coming confrontation, he tried to tell himself that his short-term pain was definitely worth the long-term gain, even having this skirmish. Besides, someone sure owed it to Tony to step up and tell Gibbs a few home truths, even if was too damned little, too damned late to fix anything between them.

Glaring at him, said stubborn individual cursed his former boss. "Don't talk crap, Tom. DiNozzo's not broken; he just gets off track _occasionally._ Nothing a good head slap and a couple of hours on the mats with me won't cure to get him refocused, again. Can't treat him nice, he hates it."

"Oh, trust me when I say he's broken, Jethro. I haven't seen him for a while, well not since the last time I tried to get him to sign on with Homeland and now the man is a shadow of himself.” He scowled fiercely at the NCIS agent.

“He rang me over the weekend and asked me if I'd give him a job. Said he was prepared to start at the bottom if I'd have him. What the hell have you people been doing to him?" He shook his head in disgust before renewing his attack.

"Couldn't believe it when I told him I wanted him to head up his own team. I've had him on my radar ever since you lit out to Mexico and left him with a pile of crap while you and that old reprobate Mike Franks pickled your livers and brains on the beach. Course I'd always been impressed with him when he belonged to me, but I still kept my eye on him after I left. That kid with his combination of investigative abilities and undercover skills is a once in a lifetime find. I can't believe you and Vance let him go!"

"Damn you, Tom, I didn't let DiNozzo go, you stole him off me and I'm going to get him back," Gibbs exploded furiously.

Tom shot him a sad look. "Believe what you will, Gibbs but I've been trying my damnedest to entice him to leave the MCRT for the last three years. Ever since you came back and dumped his stuff on his old desk with nary a word of warning or thanks, but he's always refused to leave until now.” Tom lectured harshly.

“He says he waited too long, that he should have gone a long time ago. That you don't trust him, and it was only a matter of time before you got rid of him. So, he thought he 'd save you the trouble."

He picked up his own coffee and took a gulp, then another one even if it was too hot for him to drink comfortably, mostly to regain composure before continuing. Tom absolutely hated to see just how defeated the talented agent had become – there was no excuse for it, apart from the poor leadership skills of his superior and the NCIS management.

"Although he told me he'd lost your trust, he wouldn't say much frankly,” Morrow admitted regretfully. “Even now he still has you six, even though you don’t deserve it, but like I say, I've made it my business to watch him closely over the years. I know the crap he copped working for that crazy bitch after you left. I also know about the shit you and the team dished out to him when you finally found out. 

“Plus, the fact is that you never supported him in the team as your 2IC. I know that you let your junior agents (well, to be accurate, one of them was actually with the Mossad) think that it was perfectly fine to disrespect both the position and the individual. That all reflects badly on you as his superior, Gibbs."

He could see that the NCIS agent was ropable, but Morrow wasn't done. Not by a long shot. "The scuttlebutt around the traps was that Leon Vance decided to punish Tony for Shepard's decision to commit suicide by dirtbag in the desert and that you blamed him too. And well, he was the last one allowed back on the team after that mess with the mole who wasn't really the mole.

“I’m totally seeing why he thinks you don't trust him anymore. Then if you add in, the dogs' breakfast you and Vance made out of the Domino affair; not exactly a sign of confidence in your SFA who’d previously led the team for four months. He deserved to be read in on that basis alone. He's more than earned the right, but it wasn’t about the case, it was all about punishing him, wasn't it?”

Tom stared at his former agent and dared him to lie while Gibbs glared back defiantly.

“He's also the same guy who, at great personal risk to himself, saved you butt and your daughter's friend's life too, after you tried your damnedest to kill her." He shook his head sadly as he looked at the man who was a talented investigator and yet had helped turn one of the most gifted young agents he'd ever seen into a dispirited shell of his former self.

"Like I said, Tony didn't say much at all about his reasons for leaving but he did say that you and Ducky called him a narcissistic and likened him to a serial killer. Have to say that's rich coming from you since you epitomise narcissism in all its glory ‘Mr You’d-Better-Follow-My-50-Rules’ (or else I’ll kick you to the curb) but don't expect me to follow them as I’m your Boss and I can do as I damn-well please. Then a few days ago, behind his back again, you said he needed an attitude adjustment for Christmas - that was pretty damned low, even for you, Jethro."

The former director of NCIS looked and felt thoroughly disgusted, especially since Gibbs looked truculent rather than remorseful as he should. "But like the loyal 2IC he’s always been, he tried to change to please you, nearly killing himself, giving you a robot who didn't make a noise, joke or muck around." Morrow continued grimly.

"I suspect it must have felt just like when he was a kid and was forced to act like a mini adult instead of a real boy. He said that even when he changed everything about himself to try to please you; it just made you even angrier, that he couldn't do a thing right. He said that was when he knew he'd worn out his welcome."

Shaking his head in disgust, he asked of Gibbs, "What's that saying, Jethro? Be careful what you wish for? Well DiNozzo got an attitude adjustment alright. He looked at everything afresh and finally figured out he couldn’t please you and it was time he moved on."

"Oh, for the love of Mike, give me strength Tom," Gibbs finally exploded, done with being hectored by Morrow. "DiNozzo's MY loyal Saint Bernard. He knows I often get a bit pissed off. Okay, so maybe I say things I don't mean, or I pull his leg but he's not some little pouty kid. That thing about the attitude adjustment wouldn't make him leave," He asserted angrily.

At which point Gibbs pulled out his cell phone and tried to call DiNozzo, but the number had been disconnected. Slamming his phone shut he glared at his former boss. "You. Can't. Have. Him," he growled with deadly intensity.

Shrugging, Morrow appeared unthreatened. "Well when Tony returns from the security conference in Montreal at the end of the week, we'll leave it up to him, shall we? If he wants to talk to you, he can call. Meanwhile, how is that boat of yours going, Gibbs? Is it finished yet?"

Regarding Morrow warily because of the abrupt change of topic caught him by surprise, he responded, albeit grudgingly. "Still workin' on it."

"So, I would be right in saying that the choice of lumber matters in boat building?" Tom asked innocently.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, indicating his disdain for the idiotic questions. "Ya think, Tom? Course it matters. Pick a wood that’s too inflexible, it'll snap under pressure in a storm. Choose one that's too soft and it’ll bend and warp. Choose the wrong one - it can be tough to work with so that you don't enjoy shaping the wood. Ya gotta find a wood that you enjoy working with because when you are doing everything by hand you have to love it. It takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears to build." He regarded the Assistant Director of Homeland Security inquisitively.

"Why are you asking Tom? You're not thinking of building a boat?" Gibbs enquired, sort of sensing an ambush but curious, nevertheless.

Tom Morrow laughed, his close-cropped poll shining in the harsh artificial office lighting, giving the impression that Morrow shined his head every morning.

"Hardly Jethro, I think that my wife would definitely divorce me if I did. I'm just trying my best to understand. You have infinite patience when it comes to shaping the wood, spending literally hundreds of hours sanding every single plank silky smooth. Then, when it comes to any children you encounter in your investigations you’re kind and tolerant. Long-suffering even, yet when it comes to making a little bit of time and effort, spending just a few minutes giving Tony a scant few words of thanks or praise, you baulk, preferring to spend all your free time with your boat. I'm just trying to figure it out, is all."

"Don't have time to waste on people that need their hands held, Tom. DiNozzo's hard work, insecure, constantly wanting my attention.”

“And yet if he was a boat or a little boy that was hurting, you'd happily supply it."

Not a boat! Not a little boy! Not hurting and like I told ya, he hates it when I'm nice to him.

Maybe he does but that's only because he's not used to people treating him with kindness and so he doesn't think he's worth it. So that's no excuse… if anything it's even more of a reason why he needs kindliness, especially from you, since he's never had it before and needs to learn how to accept it. If you find a knot in the wood, it might take a lot more effort to sand it smooth, but it needs more sanding, not less.

Jethro snorted, indicating what he thought about Tom’s statement.

“Neglect begets neglect; and that young man has been neglected his whole life by too many people that should have been looking out for his interests. You brought him to DC and that made you responsible for his welfare. You told him "Ya don't waste good" but that's exactly what you've been doing. Makes you no damned better than his parents, in my book."

Ignoring Gibbs proliferation of expletives, he continued placidly, "And you're wrong, Jethro. Very wrong! He is hurting, he has been hurting for a long time, it’s just that he’s been taught that showing his hurts equates to showing that he is weak. God forbid that he shows that weakness to you.

“I'm certain that any half-ways competent psychologist would agree that children who grow up neglected tend to have their emotional development stunted or to use the current psychobabble, it arrests their development. There's a good reason why you think of Tony as your loyal Saint Bernard since emotionally he's like a big puppy but even a Saint Bernard can get their feelings hurt."

Sizing up his former agent with a laser-like intensity, he took a deep breath and went for Jethro’s Achille’s heel with a surgeon’s detachment in removing a malignancy.

"I bet you were a great dad, Gibbs. Did you tell your daughter that she was special, brilliant, and all-round wonderful? That she could grow up to be anything that she wanted… of course you did. YOU were a loving, conscientious father."

Gibbs scowled, prickly beyond measure at Morrow daring to talk about Kelly. "What the hell's your point, Tom?" His tone making it clear they'd entered dangerous territory.

"You're a gifted investigator; I'll let you figure it out. But I will say this much. IF I had someone of Tony's calibre on my team who hadn't been told that he was special or loved, then I'd want to make damned sure he knew it."

"Trust me Tom, DiNozzo knows that I think he's the best young agent I've ever worked with."

"How, Jethro? How would he know that? You ever bothered to actually tell him that to his face? You told McGee in front of everyone in the bullpen that he was a good agent when you left, and not to let anyone tell him otherwise.

“Tony? Tony... you could only spare two words. You'll do – two miserable, mealy-mouthed grudging words. I mean, seriously, Gibbs?” Tom demanded of him incredulously. “Could you spare them? Have you ever actually told him – said the actual words?"

"Well… no but he knows. I wouldn't keep him on the team if I didn't."

"Ah yes, the ultimate compliment from the emotionally constipated and elective mute. If I deign to keep ‘them’ around that is tantamount to a whole boxful of commendations and medals. ‘They’ should be overwhelmed with gratitude by Leroy Jethro Gibbs' largesse in keeping them near, so they are within his orbit and can bask in his reflected glory and brilliance.” Morrow responded with much scathing irony in his voice and words.

“Except… well clearly, you're not getting the message across, Einstein, because he was convinced that you were going to get rid of him since he's a screw-up. So no, I'd have to say your WRONG! He has no idea that you think he’s good. Quite the contrary, in fact." His former boss gazed at the senior special agent, wondering how anyone could be that dense and still work for a federal law enforcement agency.

" I ask you...how the devil is he supposed to know? You hardly ever praise him and when you do it's always accompanied by a sarcastic little dig to undermine any praise you might dole out, oh so grudgingly. I'll never forget that momentous occasion when the Almighty All-Powerful Gibbs lowered himself to tell DiNozzo he was irreplaceable.” Morrow laughed, but it was a mirthless bitter snicker.

“You know, Jethro, I thought he was going to burst with pride when you told him that, and then you had to be a prick, didn’t you and burst his bubble by telling McGee he couldn't have his desk after all because he was still alive.”

Leaning towards him in a deceptively gentle voice, he let his words do the penetrating.

“Imagine if Kelly's boss had done that to her if she was alive and returning from an attempt on her life? You'd go ballistic, probably kill the jerk. Yet somehow, it's funny when you do it, especially to someone that has never had a secure loving home life, who's been neglected and abused by a pair of addicts masquerading as his parents."

He stood up and walked around the desk indicating their meeting had concluded. Holding out his hand to Gibbs, as the shell-shocked former Marine reacted without thinking, shaking his hand perfunctorily.

"Bye Gibbs, nice catching up but I've gotta ton of work to do and get to a meeting at the Pentagon. Good luck with your new boat, I sure it will be a masterpiece," He stated with heavy irony. When Gibbs didn't move, he put his hand on his arm and physically hustled him to the door.

Gibbs seemed to shake himself then glared at him, "Not going to let him go, ya know."

Tom shook his head, sadly. "Shame that it's too little too late. You've had eight years to act. Even the most cowed of working dogs will finally slink off and look for a new master after putting up with years of abuse. And now I'm going to give him a damned good home.

Always did want a kid!"


	6. Holding Out For A Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony arrives back from his security conference and ponders what is immediate future holds when Gibbs catches up with him. Meanwhile, danger s never very far away for the resident trouble magnet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is proofed not beta'ed so any errors are my bad.

Anthony DiNozzo stood by the baggage carousel at J.F.K Airport waiting for his luggage to appear, musing about the life changing events that had occurred over the last seven days. It had been a tumultuous week for sure and he was really grateful for Tom Morrow for chucking him a much-needed lifeline when he'd been drowning.

Sending him away to the security conference in Montreal with their NATO allies had been a godsend too. It gave him a welcome change of scenery and a chance to regain his balance as he tried to figure out who Anthony DiNozzo was going to become in this newest incarnation at Homeland Security.

He'd totally surprised himself by expressing his doubts about who he should be and how he should conduct himself when he’d talked to Morrow. He guessed it must be because he'd been his boss before because he usually wasn't that honest with his superiors. Chatty sure, but not given to baring his soul although, he was pretty vulnerable at the time. Morrow had listened to him, scowled and advised him to be himself – that he would find his feet naturally. He'd pointed out that Tony wouldn't need to protect anyone from a bad-tempered boss or need to relieve the pressure any longer.

His words had struck a chord, although the former NCIS agent still felt anxious.

"You're always going have a lively sense of humour Tony, but I suspect that you won't feel compelled to be quite so hyperactive. That said, Son, I don't want you to become a mindless drone or as you would no doubt say, say a MIB.

“I want you to keep your playful nature. There are enough automatons around here – I need your creativity and unique way of looking at cases, so don't be in too much of a hurry to change everything. You could end up throwing out the baby with the bathwater.”

Morrow paused for dramatic effect before his old/new boss smirked, “I think Billy Joel's - Just the Way You Are should become your new signature song,"

The fact that Morrow had told him that he was good enough already and backed it up by hiring him and to his astonishment, given him his own team had made him feel a little less of a failure. He just hoped that he didn't ever let him down.

Now, he was here in New York, supposedly to familiarise himself with the personnel in the New York office and help investigate a potential terrorist cell operating at NYU. The plan was for him to go undercover as a visiting professor to assess the threat. The hidden agenda was that Tom also wanted him to check out a Homeland agent – Heather James - to see if he wanted her on his team and offer her a job.

DiNozzo knew when he returned to DC, that he'd have to face Gibbs who was demanding to see him, and he figured that Abby was going to want a piece of his ass too. Honestly, Tony hadn't intended to leave without saying good-bye to her, but Tom had really wanted him to attend the NATO gabfest and had thrown him right in the deep end. He'd barely had time to pack a bag and get his Homeland Security creds sorted before he'd been bundled on the plane to Canada.

Truthfully, he'd expected to have to give notice and work out his two weeks at NCIS, but Morrow had pulled strings and no doubt Vance had been ecstatic to see the last of him. Leon was definitely not his BFF for some reason – well apart from getting Jenny killed, of course. What did surprise him however was that Gibbs had been livid and confronted Tom when he'd been informed of Tony's resignation.

Frankly, he was shocked that Gibbs had reacted that way because it was clear to Tony that he no longer trusted him or was happy with his performance. Still, thinking about it, Gibbs as the ultimate alpha male had obviously felt that he was challenging his authority by leaving the team without his permission. Tony sighed; it was just one more indication that where Gibbs and the team were concerned, he just couldn't do anything right. Obviously, he was expected to expose his soft underbelly as a sign of supplication, perhaps bare his neck submissively for his former uber alpha boss to rip out before slinking off with his tail between his legs. It was obvious he wasn't going to be permitted to leave with even a shred of his self-respect intact.

As much as he would prefer to avoid a confrontation with Gibbs, he knew the man well enough to know that he wouldn't give up and fade away into the background. And he couldn't avoid him forever; the law enforcement community in DC wasn't that huge, so they were bound to run into each other at some point in time. They might even have to work together so he didn't have much choice but get it over and done with. Hopefully, Gibbs would be satisfied by simply chewing on his balls and not feel the need to rip 'em off. Maybe by the time he headed back to DC Gibbs would have cooled off a bit. 

_Yeah, and pigs would sprout gossamer wings and fly, Anthony!_

Collecting his gear, he hopped on the train to head into Manhattan, finding it an odd feeling to be back in New York again. With his luck, he would probably run into his old man, who would, if he learnt about Tony's latest change of jobs, smile smugly, nod and say, '_I told you you were a screw-up, Junior'._

Deliberately thrusting all thoughts of his sperm donor out of his head, Tony decided to grab a coffee, hoping that it would settle his sense of discomfort. Perhaps though, it wasn't going to go away, not until he had confronted Gibbs and taken his lumps as Ducky would say.

Even as he mulled over the situation that he was going to be facing on his arrival back home in DC, he was also still assessing his current environment and checking out the people that were around him. He'd been a federal agent for eight years and he hadn't been a beat cop for several years prior to that, but no matter what skills and training he acquired subsequently, the awareness he developed in those early days on the streets had always stayed with him. He might not possess Gibbs' infallible gut, but his intuition hadn't ever let him down. He'd only ever slipped up when he discounted or ignored it and right now his sixth sense was telling him something bad was about to go down.

For some reason, he kept coming back to a young mother with a fractious toddler who seemed very anxious. Abandoning his bags for the time being beside the security guard, he flashed his creds at him, asking him to keep an eye on them; the federal agent felt compelled to wander over and check her out. Assessing her carefully, he estimated she was in her late twenties, possibly early thirties and the kid was still in diapers. He seemed upset but was responding normally to the woman, so he discounted the possibility she had kidnapped him.

Although he couldn't rule out a custody dispute, especially since they didn't appear to have any luggage and that was suspicious. And the way she kept looking around like someone was after them, that also fitted in with that scenario too but as Tony grew closer, he saw that she was wearing heavy facial makeup to try to disguise an ugly black eye and facial bruising. Looking at the woman's left hand, it looked swollen and discoloured and Tony would bet his mother's trust fund that it was fractured.

Okay, so looking less like a kidnapping by the minute, more like a case of domestic violence. Something which was, unfortunately, bread and butter to a former beat cop. He continued to assess the area for potential threats. When the woman rose from the row of seats she'd been resting on, Tony wondered if he'd spooked her, until he realised a muscle-bound thirty-something 5-foot 10-inch white male was following her. Now his intuition was literally jumping up and down, screaming at him to do something and he picked up the pace. The DHS agent arrived in time to hear the heavily muscled hulk snarl as he grabbed the woman roughly and spun her around to face him.

"I told you that you could run but you couldn't hide, Susanna." He threatened her viciously. "I'll always find you and drag you back home by your hair if I have to, you useless slag. I swear... bitch, that if you ever try to take my son away again, you'll wish you…"

As Tony drew parallel with the pair he interrupted. "Excuse me, Ma'am. Is everything alright here?"

The muscle-bound hulk had his hand around the woman's slim bicep, squeezing her harshly and he scowled at Tony's intervention. The out-of-control fury was extremely obvious to the federal agent. This guy was as dangerous as a cobra and probably a damn sight less intelligent.

"Is this the pretty-boy you've been cheating on me with, you worthless whore?" He spat at the woman.

And Tony saw hints of unbridled lunacy in the Neanderthal's eyes that boded ill for all concerned. In slow motion – _oh how clichéd was that Anthony - _he saw him pull a wickedly serrated knife out of a scabbard on his belt. Knowing his intuition had been right on the money, the former cop barrelled hard into the young woman, still carrying her son in her arms. He knocked her cleanly out of the way before her asshole of a partner/ husband could stab her, as was clearly his intention.

Tony, like any good cop, knew that in any violent domestic relationship, the most dangerous period of time for the battered partner was in the hours directly following her escape from her abuser. It was when the vast majority of these fatalities occurred, and this guy was crazy violent. If Tony needed any more proof that the statistics he'd had drummed into him at the Police Academy (and his sixth sense were correct) then he figured the fact that the knife that had been intended to kill the young mother was now protruding from his chest, should fit the bill. Strangely enough, Tony thought bemusedly, it really didn't hurt all that much. Probably because of the violent influx of adrenaline now flooding his system and as he drew his pistol, he was grateful that the little boy was probably too young to remember seeing him shoot down and killed his mother's loser deadbeat partner who in all likelihood was also his father.

Not wasting time with a nonlethal shot, since Tony didn't think he would have enough time left to take a second one; he aimed straight for the bastard's aorta. Even though he was beginning to lose consciousness, he was still an excellent shot and he snorted - it was also point-blank range. Tony knew he wouldn't miss, that was one thing that Gibbs had drilled into him. He was determined that the woman and her son (whose names' he didn't know and more than likely never would) would now be able to live out their lives without the fear of being attacked anymore. As he lost consciousness, the last thing he saw was the asshole collapse and he heard people begin shrieking.

Guess he wasn't going to have to meet with Gibbs after all. His former boss was going to be so pissed that he wouldn't have a chance to tear him a new one for resigning without holding himself available for an ass lickin'. But hey... them's the breaks, he supposed.

Still, Tony shouldn't be too surprised really; since he was never able to do anything without disappointing the guy who he'd tried in vain to make proud of him for all those years. Why should his death be any different?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliff hanger and no...I don't have a death wish. There is a reason I didn't tag it a death fic. There is a HEA of sorts for DiNozzo.


	7. Regrets - I Have a Few

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News of DiNozzo's condition rocks Gibbs' world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people might consider Gibbs out of character in this chapter. In this story, I've taken the POV that he is capable of having insight when pushed by circumstances but generally he doesn't care. I do think he gets off on playing mind games, inflicting pain, both emotional and physical on the people around him, and acting like a spoilt toddler. Like any toddler, he'll constantly push the boundaries to see how much havoc and rule-breaking he can get away with, which in his case is too damned much.
> 
> This chapter hasn't been beta'ed - soz.

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, glaring at everyone that came within a twenty-foot radius of his desk. Of course, the rest of the office had quickly learnt to avoid the twenty-foot exclusion zone and gave the MCRT bullpen an even wider berth than usual. Well, with the obvious exception of McGee and Ziva as their desks were inside the exclusion zone. Which meant they were constantly in the firing line, much to their irritation. This last week had definitely been the longest week that anyone could remember, and the rumour mill was running rampant about the absence of one Very Special Anthony DiNozzo. Some said he'd been fired or gone to work for the CIA or Homeland Security, but Gibbs insisted he was on leave and threatened anyone with castration who he caught gossiping about ‘his senior field agent.’

Meanwhile, Abbs was alternating between busting Gibbs’ ass for making Tony resign and collapsing into paroxysms of tears, snot and drippy mascara. Most of the time she was refusing to talk to him and was only giving him forensic reports via email instead of face to face briefings. Even worse, she was reporting her findings (verbally and in writing) only in scientific mumbo-jumbo, necessitating either Ducky or McGee translating everything for him and as neither of them was known for their brevity or succinctness, it was a particularly cruel and unusual punishment. He was barely hanging on 'til week's end when DiNozzo would be back and he could go around, pick the lock on his apartment and talk some sense into him.

Cursing loudly when his cell phone rang, he scowled fiercely when he saw the number that appeared on the screen. Standing up and heading towards the stairwell where it afforded a degree of privacy, he answered tersely.

"When are ya going let me talk to my senior field agent, Tom?" He demanded, not bothering with preliminaries.

Tom Morrow sighed audibly. "Jethro, I'm afraid Tony won't be able to speak with you. He's been…"

"Damn it, Tom, it's not up to you. I will drag him back here and I will talk to him and nothing you can say or do will stop me," he yelled, extremely frustrated.

"… and he was injured in New York and is now in a coma," The Assistant Director of Homeland Security finished speaking, his affect despondent as he ignored Gibbs irrational outburst. Gibbs figured he was used to his outburst until he registered the words 'injured' and 'coma.'

"What? What did you say? What the Hell did you do to him, Morrow?"

"What do they say about once a cop, Jethro? He was protecting a battered wife and her 16-month-old son from her abusive husband trying to flee the relationship. Witnesses say the bastard tried to kill his wife, Susanna Curtis and Tony stepped in front of her, knocking her and her child out of the way and ended up getting stabbed in the heart in her stead. They lost him twice on the operating table, he suffered a stroke and lapsed into a coma. They aren't optimistic that he will even regain consciou…"

Any further information went unheeded as the phone slipped from Gibbs' nerveless hand, clattering onto the concrete as it bounced down the steps to the landing below. He felt a terrible sense of deja-vu harking back to the time when he'd been deployed as a sniper in Iraq during Desert Storm and had been informed that his precious Shannon and Kelly had been murdered.

Déjà vu that forced him to remember all the times he'd had to have the last word in disagreements between Shannon and himself. Plus, he could also play the 'I'm not gonna talk to you since I'm holding a grudge' game after an argument like a pro, something which used to drive his sainted wife to distraction. Subsequently, she'd always been the one to mend fences because she couldn't bear to go to bed while they were still arguing. Once she and Kelly were gone, he realised how stupidly childish it was to waste even one minute of a day trying to be right constantly, instead of using the time to tell them how much they truly meant to him.

Life was far too fleeting and impermanent not to make the most of every single last second and ensure that the people most important to you knew that they were cherished and appreciated. You'd think that he would have learnt that lesson the hard way, but it seemed not.

People always assumed that Shannon and Kelly's death had made him the bastard he was now but that was simply not true. He'd always been a bad-tempered SOB. It was just that after he lost his girls, he no longer cared about who he offended anymore. Grief just exacerbated his natural tendencies, and he no longer felt the need to censure his anger, probably because he'd lost his filter. Truth be told, he'd gotten a whole lotta perverse satisfaction in pissing on other people. It felt damn good!

And it wasn't as if he didn't have just cause to be an angry kid who'd grown up to be an equally angry guy. He'd grown up in a lame-ass, one-horse town where the popular kids had picked on him without mercy and he'd lost his beloved mother when he was a 14-year-old kid. He wasn't interested in going to college, didn't get along with his old man and he had no intention of working in the mines which was why he'd joined up. The Marine Corps was his ticket out of the shitty provincial backwater town of Stillwater, and he leapt at the chance.

In return he'd gallantly defended his country, serving with distinction, considering it an honour and a cheap price to pay in return for escaping his parochial existence. But while he was deployed, Shannon had witnessed a murder and he wasn't there to protect them and they'd been killed. He figured that he'd earned the right to be angry and like anything else that Jethro pursued, he did so with an unfailing obsession and due diligence. His enthusiasm for his new persona helped to distract him from facing the truth that his successful quest for vengeance against Hernandez hadn't been able to quell his fury and pain. So instead, the bastard with two Bs for boorish bastard was born.

Now it seemed to Gibbs that he hadn't bothered to learn from his past and to make the most of time; instead, he'd become addicted over the years to acting petulant and outrageously. Even those around him who were his nearest and dearest were in the firing line as he'd rapidly become a law unto himself. In the last eight years especially, he'd delighted in having DiNozzo there on his team as his personal whipping boy. He knew full well that his friend and second was desperate to win his approval and Jethro savoured the power he'd wielded, mostly withholding it.

Denying what Tony needed from him amused Gibbs and made him feel so damned powerful. Sometimes though, he would relent just a little, offering a wry compliment sandwiched between a stinging put down or a sarcastic insult; knowing full well it would rob the praise of much its power since it would never do for DiNozzo to get too cocksure or complacent. It would defeat the purpose of having his loyal Saint Bernard following him around, hungry to please.

He justified it when called out on his behaviour by declaring DiNozzo was just that good that he had higher expectations of what his agent was capable of and so he pushed him more than everyone else, which sounded like a great excuse. As was the line that he didn't want him to become arrogant and over-confident, but the reality was Tony was far too insecure, not to mention a consummate professional for it to occur. Then there was the old chestnut that DiNozzo didn't like him being nice as he'd told Morrow, which effectively gave him carte blanche to treat him like a pile of shit. Tom was the only person who had the guts to call him on that one.

And he admitted to himself, today at least, that he'd been even more vicious than normal with him in the last couple of years, even seeing how the rest of the team had taken their cues from him and acted accordingly. He'd left the team and returned, then left a second time before coming back, which had made him feel weak and indecisive which led to him usurping the position he'd bestowed on Tony, albeit it by damning him with the faintest of praise. He'd retaken his job in the most humiliating public fashion possible, returning again without prior warning that he was going to resume his role as SSA.

This meant DiNozzo found out he was going to be demoted at the exact same time as the Mossad liaison officer and the barely junior agent and after anyone else who was already in the bullpen that morning when Gibbs walked in and chucked Tony’s stuff back on his old desk. The implicit message that DiNozzo took away from that was he wasn't important enough (good enough) to rate the consideration of being informed privately.

This of course had been Gibbs intention, despite the bullpen scuttlebutt that had excused his behaviour as being because of his head injury and memory loss. Another theory amongst the peanut gallery was that he was a clueless, socially inept bastard and he had atrocious people skills. Although that was certainly the truth, his takeover had been utterly calculated to effect a bloodless coup and was intended to cause harm and distract from his own temporary weaknesses. The unanticipated gleeful, almost vicious reaction of Ziver and the Elf Lord to DiNozzo's fall from grace, metaphorically and literally, had been an unexpected benefit for Gibbs. One he nevertheless accepted with open arms, since it would have been foolish not to have taken advantage of any or all help in quelling his rival.

Then afterwards, he'd set about achieving his single-minded goal of putting DiNozzo firmly back in his place as his beta. That required his behaviour to become even more extreme and brutal in order to remind the temporary leader of his place as second banana. Unfortunately, he'd gone way too far, treating him like a rabid dog and tacitly allowing the rest of the team to do so, too. Since DiNozzo thrived upon even the scantest of positive reinforcement and social interaction with the people he had formed strong bonds with, the regime of ridicule and ostracising by the team and inevitably other field agents due to his demotion, had been a little like using an electric shock collar on an eager-to-please working dog.

Yet when he'd found out that his trusty SFA had fooled him, successfully managing to carry out a year-long undercover mission involving Rene Benoit for Jen while working full-time on the MCRT without any of them realising, it had been a bitter pill for Gibbs to swallow. He'd felt belittled, marginalised and made to look foolish by his former protégé and his current one - an unaccustomed experience for the supremely self-confident Marine. So, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone that he'd made damn sure Tony suffered his wrath. No one got the better of Leroy Jethro Gibbs, not without paying dearly for the privilege.

Then later, when he'd almost gotten Kelly's best friend killed and Tony had come to their rescue, it had been another harsh blow to his ego, perhaps another indication that he hadn't recovered from his amnesia completely as he'd always maintained. Since it was his modus operandi whenever he felt belittled or inadequate to go on the attack, he made sure those around him paid the price for those feelings, especially DiNozzo who'd been responsible for stepping in and saving both their lives. He was a constant reminder to Gibbs that he'd screwed the pooch royally and he found it an untenable position to be in as team leader.

Add in the mess of Jen's where her incompetence from their last Special Ops mission had ended up catching up with her after her failure to make her kill in Paris. That had been difficult for him to accept, since he was her mentor and was responsible for her actions. Her decision to go all out in a blaze of glory, instead of a whimper in a hospital bed, had been damn selfish and pissed him off. DiNozzo got shipped off to sea as agent afloat because of it and after he was finally transferred back to DC again, he'd been furious with Gibbs keeping him in the dark about the Domino debacle. It had perpetuated the ill-will and tension simmering between them both, while Jethro continuing to insist the subterfuge was due to safety concerns resulted in their relationship becoming even more strained.

Gibbs ignored it, refusing to acknowledge that there was a problem that required fixing.

Gibbs was supremely confident in the knowledge that Tony would always come crawling back, looking for his approval in the end. He just had to wait him out and deny him all forms of the currency the former cop craved. His capacity to forgive and forget was legendary – hard as it was for someone like Jethro to comprehend since Gibbs didn't do forgiveness, as his long running feud with Jackson Gibbs demonstrated. Nevertheless, he did demand absolute forgiveness from his agents, especially his long-suffering senior field agent who was expected to deal with Jethro’s constant tantrums and unreasonable anger and afterwards, to simply shrug it off. Tony was the epitome of forgiveness – it was as immutable as Vance chewing on a toothpick or Abby wearing mini-skirts, chains and downing Caff-pows daily.

Even with Tony's impulsive resignation, he'd been supremely confident he could talk him around. He always could manage him with a half-assed apology in the shape of a cup of coffee or a pizza or when it was a serious transgression, the promise of cowboy steaks and an invitation to spend an evening with him one-on-one in the basement.

So, his resignation pointed to his boss having to do some pretty damned serious grovelling – well grovel Gibbs-style - since he didn't apologise, and it suggested that he had some significant fence-mending on the horizon. That said, he knew once he talked to DiNozzo, his characteristic desire to win Gibbs' approval would reassert itself and permit him to manipulate the former cop into forgiving him. He'd then be able to convince him to return to the team.

Now though, his plans had turned to dust. Gibbs faced the terrifying realisation that he might not be able to fix things between them this time. And more importantly, that he had left it too long and lost any chance to give DiNozzo what he'd wanted and needed for the longest time. The knowledge that Gibbs was proud of him and cared about him was what he'd always hungered for. Not a lot to ask of a person, yet he'd miserly held back his approval as if he was somehow better than the man who craved it.

Yes, you'd think he out of anyone should have learnt how precious a gift, time really was and not to waste a moment of it. He'd had more than seven years, (less time he'd spent in Mexico or when DiNozzo was afloat) but still plenty of time to let Tony know what his friendship, respect and loyalty meant to him. Yet he was so busy playing childish mind games, utterly confident he could fix things between them, if and when it suited him, merely by deigning to grace Tony with his oh so valuable attention.

Well, it seemed like the universe had decided some major ass-whooping was in order; that his egotism made it necessary to reminded him that time was too short for his psychological manipulating and BS. That no one, not even Gibbs was ever truly the master of their own destiny, no matter how much they might delude themselves otherwise. He could beg Tony's forgiveness 'til he was blue in the face but if the doctors were right, then he would never be granted his chance at absolution.

Praying to his wife and daughter, because ever since their death he'd refused to believe in a God that would take them away, Leroy Jethro Gibbs – second B for bastard - beseeched them to send Tony back. Vowing to them that he would never again take the people he cared about for granted. He hoped that he would get the chance to seek DiNozzo's forgiveness, even if his gut was telling him otherwise. And he didn't even want to think about the guilt that Abby was going to be feeling for telling Tony about his pathetic comment about his attitude if he were never to wake up. A stupid, cruel comment uttered without thought to its ability to cause harm, but it just may have succeeded in destroying a life, no correction, multiple lives.

Tony didn't deserve any of this; it couldn't really have happened again, could it? Not when he was saving an innocent life, that wasn't fair. He deserved so much more. But then again Shannon and Kelly didn't deserve to die either and yet they had still been taken from him. He more than anyone, should have known that bad things happened to good people all the time.

Tony wasn't the one who needed an attitude adjustment and yet the fates were going to demand him as the sacrificial lamb required for Gibbs to achieve something that was long overdue.

Resolute, he knew what he needed to do. Yesterday's Gibbs would storm the barricades. Yesterday’s Gibbs would arrogantly sweep in and order him not to die. But that was before he broke things so badly that he no longer had that right.

Today's Gibbs wasn't too proud to beg.


	8. Feet of Clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and Ducky talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta'ed by Arress - well before I tweaked it.
> 
> When I posted this chapter five years ago, it opened a can of worms in some quarters because I dared to make an observation that Tim wasn't qualified to be appointed SFA when Gibbs resigned and went to Mexico. I was accused of character bashing Tim, while people who were  
in law enforcement leapt to my defence, so I'll just get in first before anyone decides to complain about me being mean to McGee. Bear in mind that at that time he was promoted, he hadn't actually spent two full years as a field agent (more like 1.75 years) plus had limited investigative experience. In comparison, Tony had at least 6 or 7 years in the field before he was appointed as Gibbs SFA. I say 6 or 7 years because, during the back door episodes of JAG (Ice Queen and Meltdown) which kicked off NCIS, Tony was left in charge of the rest of the team of Agents Dobbs and Blackadder and the investigation - a high profile one involving a JAG officer - when Gibbs is called away to interrogate a terrorist. If he wasn't an SFA, then in Gibbs absence, a supervisory TAD would have to have been appointed in his stead, particularly with the on-going high profile investigation and three junior agents. Gibbs also tells him to pick who accompanies him to Rota for the undercover op - not something he would permit a junior agent to do with his micromanagement issues. *If* they had followed protocol, Tony would have had to have been at the agency for a minimum of a year (so 1 year as a junior agent + 6 years as a cop) before being appointed as SFA, although he was specifically hired to replace Stan Burley who had been Gibbs' SFA so who knows. Anyway, the bottom line is that to be eligible for a supervisory position, a candidate needs a minimum of 5 years on the job experience - and McGee didn't have it. If that's your idea of character bashing, so be it. IMHO I'm stating facts, just like saying there are 30 days in November.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter.

Dr Donald Mallard had received a phone call from Director Vance requesting that he make his way down to Ms Scuito's laboratory and render medical assistance. According to Leon, Abigail had barricaded herself in her office and was refusing to respond to anyone, and since Gibbs wasn't available, the director was hoping the medical examiner could talk the emotionally fraught forensic scientist down off the ledge. Of course, Ducky was cynical enough to suspect that their most pragmatic leader, Director Vance, was more concerned with the state of play regarding forensic evidence than the emotional and mental health of their forensic virtuoso.

Normally Gibbs, or in lieu of his presence, young Anthony were the ones who were best placed to handle Abigail when she was in such a state. The pair, for all intents and purposes, were acknowledged experts in the role of Goth Whisperer, but then again, neither of them were here now to fulfil their highly specialised role. Today that task fell upon him to perform and he just hoped he would prevail.

Jethro had taken off like a bolt out of the blue when Thomas Morrow had called to tell him about the tragic situation with Anthony. He'd flown up to New York to attend the hospital following the brutal attack upon their former senior field agent's life. And of course, the reason why he wasn't there was also the reason for Abigail's meltdown, as she depended upon Gibbs to be her emotion rock in times of crisis. Arriving at the door of the lab, Ducky found a crowd of people, all standing around trying to get into the lab to comfort the forensic scientist.

Somehow, one of the most brilliant of forensic minds had managed to train the entire staff into cosseting and spoiling her like some fragile hothouse orchid. However, it seemed that not even Caff-Pows were enticing her out of the lab today.

Frowning, Ducky spoke to the mob, "I think that it would be prudent if everybody returned to their department or desk and gave us a little privacy. I'm sure everything will be fine, ladies and gentlemen," The medical examiner noted that all but his assistant, James Palmer, Officer Ziva David and Special Agent McGee melted away silently.

Her forehead furrowed, Ziva placed her hand on Ducky's arm. "What is going on with Abby, Ducky? And why has Gibbs disappeared in such a _county_? Do you know where he went?" She demanded in her typically imperious fashion, which Ducky surmised some time ago was one she probably considered to be caring and sharing since empathetic discourse wasn't something that had been featured on the Mossad extra-curricular program.

Ducky patted her shoulder, quickly deciding to put them off rather than filling them in, especially since he wasn't sure exactly what was going on at this stage. Had Abigail just gone off the deep end because of Anthony's accident and Gibbs refusal to take her with him to New York? Much to her fury, he'd declined to wait long enough for Vance to organise a replacement for her, since there was evidence pending on cases.

Of course, since she and not Gibbs was now his medical proxy and had been ever since Domino occurred some weeks before, it was understandable that she'd gone off the deep end at being prevented from going up there. Vance forcing her to fulfil the role via fax and video hook-up rather than in person had seemed especially hard-hearted. Ducky wondered if he really couldn't organise a replacement for her until tomorrow or he was just making her pay for Gibbs taking off without leave.

Of course. it was possible, the ME concluded gravely that Abigail had received more bad news in the interim.

"I really don't know what's going on, my dear." He temporized. "Why don't you all return to work, too, and I'll see what I can discover,"

He shooed them all off, with an eloquent glance at Mr Palmer to indicate he would fill him in later and waited until they all disappeared into the lift. Taking out his phone, he dialled Abby's number and when she answered he asked her to let him in. Hearing the door release, he entered, surprised to see that Abby was standing there staring at him with a terrified expression.

"Has there been any more word, Ducky?" She whispered brokenly.

"I'm afraid not, dear. I take it you haven't heard anything either?" Ducky enquired as the Goth disappeared back into her office, which was swathed in darkness and he heard her sniffling as she started crying. Ducky placed his arms around her comfortingly. "This isn't like you, dear Abigail. You must not lose hope. While there is life there is hope, child."

"I haven't, Ducky. I know that if there is the slightest chance, Tony will take it, so until we know for sure, I'm going to hold onto hope."

"Then I don't understand what this breakdown is all about, Abigail," Ducky asked gently, feeling confused by her reaction.

"I destroyed the team, Ducky. I'm the reason that Tony is lying in a hospital in a coma in New York right now and the team has been shattered."

"Abigail, that isn't true, you didn't stab Anthony."

"No, but I am the reason he left NCIS. If I hadn't told him that Gibbs said that he needed an attitude adjustment for Christmas, he would never have resigned."

Ducky snorted indelicately. "I don't see how you can blame yourself for the uncouth behaviour of Jethro, my dear. How is that your fault?"

"Because Ducky… I told him. And not because I thought he should know, but because I couldn't deal with the fact that Gibbs, my Silver Fox, the man who can move mountains and is all-knowing and powerful. The person who is perfect in every way is nothing more than a myth and my Fantasy Gibbs said what he said which was so nasty and cruel.

_Ducky marvelled at her ability to dramatize the situation even when she was genuinely distressed._

“Oh. My. God. Ducky! I've built him up to be an Idol, a God, a mythical magical creature who knows when my babies have something for him, even before I can call him. Whose gut is all-knowing and where Gibbs is never, ever wrong. And when he said such a horrible, mean thing about Tony for absolutely no good reason and it was Christmas time, I couldn't deal with it. It was like he bitch-slapped me in the face with meanness and vitriol."

She rocked back and forth, her arms wrapped completely around her torso and Ducky knew she was trying to self soothe as she took a breath before continuing.

"You know, I don't like sarcasm and it was like he was forcing me to confront how much of a mean-spirited individual he was being. I didn't want to face the truth that he's simply human like the rest of us, with the same faults and frailties. And because I didn't want to have to face that truth, I went to the one person who always puts me back together again, no matter what. But I never thought about how much it would hurt him."

She stood up and took a photo of Gibbs off her wall – a poster-sized picture of him head-slapping Tony out in the field for some undoubtedly minor infraction, Ducky thought. Taking it over to a shallow metal dish, the Goth poured some chemical from her lab over it, which seconds later he realised was flammable, as she ignited the photo. It burned in a combination of the white-hot and bright blue flames until it consumed the picture and all that was left was blackened ash.

"Ah, my dear, Abigail, I understand that you are angry at Jethro…"

"I didn't burn the photo because I am angry at him, Ducky… well, I am angry, but that's not why I did it. It's time for me to stop acting like a child and pretending that Gibbs is going to make everything magically better. I'm not a little girl; I'm a mature intelligent woman with a bunch of degrees and diplomas in forensics. A scientist who can kill someone without leaving a trace, yet, I went running to Tony when Gibbs upset my juvenile view of him as being perfect.” She hiccupped; her breath still ragged.

“You know... he took me home and let me cry on his shoulder all night and took care of me, and I didn't give a thought to the fact that no one was going to look after him. He does such an awesome job of looking after everyone, but who looks after him? He's never had that, and yet not only does he not have a chip on his shoulder, but he never expects anything from any of us."

Ducky felt himself becoming uncomfortable as Abby vented. He felt a prickly feeling that he knew was his conscience. He, too, had been remiss in his own dealings with young Anthony. Apparently, his young friend had found out that he and Jethro had been joking about him, likening him to a serial killer they were investigating who was a poster child for Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

That was probably why he didn't transfer his medical proxy to the medical examiner, which was totally understandable, he concluded shamefully. His Hippocratic Oath was looking more than a little bit tarnished – _first do no harm._

Apart from that inexcusable lapse, he'd been less than supportive of the young agent when he'd taken over from Gibbs several years ago. Instead of encouraging him and defending him to the rest of the team, he'd been consumed by his own anger at his old friend for leaving them all way that he did. And the irony was that Anthony had some innovations that Ducky had found to be very positive, like his campfires and burning CDs so that Abigail, himself and young Mr Palmer could stay in the loop.

Jethro was of the school of thought that information must be hoarded like gold ingots and doled out sparingly by him with miserly regard because knowledge was power. He'd always used it to foster the mystique that Abby and the rest of his team were mesmerised by Anthony's style of leadership, on the other hand, was much more egalitarian. Far more collaborative than collusion and frankly, Ducky found that it was far less exhausting for everyone. He was embarrassed he’d never told him so.

"Quite true, my dear child. But you know that while Jethro has obviously played a part in our young man's decision to move on to a job where his talents would be better appreciated, we are not without blame either. Even you and I!” he admitted sadly.

“When Jethro left us all, we were all so busy falling apart and lashing out like a bunch of developmentally immature children, we all made Anthony's life a misery, each in our own way. I was so angry with my old friend that I wasn't there for our new leader in any meaningful way when you young 'uns all turned on him because he wasn’t Gibbs.

"Indeed, I was perfectly happy to use him to take out my anger on, and I wasn't the only one. He couldn't win – if he did something like Gibbs, you pilloried him for being a wanna-be, but when he tried to be his own man – you mocked him for being big-headed and thinking he was better than Gibbs. Timothy and Ziva questioned his orders and didn't give of their best. You slapped a trainee sticker on him, and yet your own behaviour was hardly that of a professional, collapsing into tears several times a day."

He gazed at Abby as she flushed crimson and tears leaked out from under her eyelashes. "Tell me, my dear," He pressed. "Why didn't you ever feel the need to whack a trainee sticker on young Timothy, too? If anything, he as an agent that was barely out of his probationary period and not actually eligible to serve as a senior field agent because of his lack of field and investigative experience, was a far more likely a candidate.

Abby’s tears ran in two black tracks down her cheeks as she cried. Hardening his resolve, Ducky the point. 

“Apart from Tony's wealth of investigative experience which added up to over a decade in law enforcement, a significant part of his role as SFA, his duties and training involved preparing him to lead the team when the SSA was unavailable. Anthony was more than prepared and capable to lead the team, both in Jethro's absence when he was indisposed and after he left, and Tony was promoted. Yet Timothy had no such experience or training to step into the role of SFA, and frankly, he should never have been asked to take on the promotion since he didn't possess the prerequisite skills."

Abby looked shocked. "I… I… I never thought about it that way, Ducky. And me having Gibbs' photos plastered all around the lab and begging him to get Gibbs back constantly. That must have been horrible for him, and yet he took such good care of us all and we trashed him and his feelings. You're right, we are all to blame – how we blamed him when we found out what he'd been doing for Jenny, how we teased him about his demotion when Gibbs came back. We are horrible people, Ducky. Horrible! I don't blame him for leaving."

"Unkind, juvenile, unthinking, and selfish perhaps but maybe horrible is a trifle too dramatic, Abby. An unfortunate conflagration of individual personalities, weaknesses and circumstances. Each of us is eccentric, needy or afflicted with authority issues, all orbiting as tiny satellites around the gravitational pull of the charismatic leadership of Leroy Jethro Gibbs and failing to perform our own personal due diligence when it came to our professional roles. It has led us to this sad impasse, my dear. We all must accept responsibility for the consequences of our actions, I'm afraid."

Ducky looked at the forensic scientist, her woebegone features more than enough to melt a heart much harder than his own, but nevertheless knowing that it was a necessary and long overdue metamorphosis. Facing up to the truth that someone you have elevated to god-like status for years was a mere mortal like everyone else, was always going to be painful. Abby's realisation that her Silver Fox had feet of clay like the rest of them was an obligatory milestone of maturation, which he had to concede, was long overdue.

Most individuals achieved that milestone somewhere around the time that they realised that parents were imperfect and that magical thinking was a vestige of cognitive immaturity. She had never really made that leap... until now.

Abigail never intended to hurt her friends and colleagues, but emotionally she was hard work, and perhaps they all were to blame. They frequently indulged the happy Goth more than was prudent, instead of encouraging her to develop coping skills. Growing up was a painful process, even if you'd managed to delay it until your mid-thirties.

Sighing, he stood up and encouraged Abby to return to her lab since there were machines that had been beeping, indicating that tests awaited her attention. Promising to use his considerable contacts to try to gain a medical update, he headed off back to his own little fiefdom, feeling considerably older and colder. Even if they had a miracle, Ducky knew that nothing would ever be the same again…for any of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ziva-ism: "And why has Gibbs disappeared in such a county?" = "And why has Gibbs disappeared in such a state?"


	9. Resolute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven months on, Tom Morrow assesses what the future holds for Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta'ed by Arress - I've messed with it since so the boo-boos are my bad.  
Someone commented that getting stabbed in the heart was a life-threatening injury and the chances of surviving are slim and I'd definitely agree with that observation. Although details differ, I know someone who recovered from a somewhat similar situation, including having a stroke on the table during one of several open-heart emergency surgeries carried out over a period of days. I know how miraculous such a recovery is.

Tom Morrow sat at his desk, studying the personnel file of Special Agent Anthony D. DiNozzo, paying close attention to the medical reports that had been faxed to him yesterday. Despite the enormous odds against his young agent who’d been unconscious for just over three weeks, he had astounded the medical community and woken up from a coma that the doctors felt may be permanent. That was six months ago. Sadly, such a traumatic assault to his brain due to a combination of oxygen deprivation and cerebral haemorrhage meant that he inevitably woke up with deficits, some of which it was only now becoming apparent, were permanent.

Other areas of brain function had proved more resilient. For example, his motor deficits had been moderate, fine motor skills that had to be re-learnt, Tony’s coordination had been affected. However, like the gifted college athlete he'd been, he worked with tireless commitment with a physical therapist to improve his strength, muscle tone, coordination and his stamina. While he still had some ways to go before he was back to normal, he was making great strides every day and was fitter than many agents, even if he hadn't yet attained his own pre coma fitness levels. He worked with equal determination to regain his fine motor skills too, although initially, he'd struggled, his frustration apparent to all with the slow progress despite his efforts. It had been a serendipitous event when the speech therapist had suggested he attend music therapy due to his moderate and intermittent expressive aphasia (his ability to speak fluently) being affected by the stroke.

His music therapist, Dana Strauss had cheered him up considerably with the discovery that he might have difficulty speaking and expressing himself at times, but he could sing fluently. His delight was matched by her own when she recommended that he might like to learn to play the guitar as an aid to writing music and songs as an outlet for his emotions. She recommended channelling negative feelings such as grief, anger, fear and frustration into music as being very cathartic. When he casually mentioned that he could already play piano and guitar, or he could before the stroke, Strauss had encouraged him to practise daily to regain his pre-stroke skills, pointing out that it would also assist him in regaining fine motor skills. After that, Tony had thrown himself into either working out or playing music. He ended up jamming with three other stroke survivors who were working with Dana too and after several months, they formed an R&B group and had become inseparable.

They called their group 'Strokin the Blues' and their bass guitarist Jemma Jones had been a professional musician prior to her stroke at the tender young age of 29. Following several years of intensive therapy, she had now recovered enough to play again. Jemma had even gotten them various gigs in clubs around DC where she'd worked prior to her stroke, helping them recover a great deal of confidence and independence.

Tom had honestly been blown away by Tony's musical abilities and he knew that the mob from NCIS had been struck dumb by this unknown side of his life. It had come as a nasty little surprise to find that there was a least one part of the talented agent's life that they’d been totally clueless about, despite working with him for years. Yet having visited Tony at his apartment a couple of times since he’d returned home from rehab, Tom wondered why Gibbs at the very least, hadn't asked why the lad had a baby grand piano sitting in his living room.

Glancing at the flashing light on his desk, Tom flicked the intercom switch to on and spoke into the speaker, "Yes, Sharon?"

"Special Agent DiNozzo has arrived, Sir." His personal assistant announced in her chirpy '_isn't the world such a wonderful place' _manner.

"Good, send him in, please," He instructed her, closing Tony's file and slipping it into the top drawer of his desk. Standing up, he walked around the desk to greet Tony as he entered his office. Giving the young agent a gentle hug after approaching him as one might a half tame animal, he directed them over to his leather couch, knowing that Sharon would be appearing momentarily, with coffee for her boss and a cup of green tea for Tony.

Over the last few months he had come to the realisation that while a part of the man craved physical intimacy and tactile stimulation, his trust issues made it difficult for him to accept displays of affection. Strangely enough, one of his perplexing complexities meant that he was perfectly fine in offering hugs and touches when it came to giving comfort to others, but it was the receiving of them where he struggled mightily with acceptance.

"Sit Tony, it's great to see you. How did you go at the firing range, my boy?" He inquired innocently, not prepared to let Tony know that he had already had a report from his spies telling him that the agent had easily qualified, even though he’d just been there to practise.

"Okay, I think, Sir. Not sure if I'm back up to my usual scores yet but I did okay, I think. I should be able to requalify without too much drama," he said, speaking cautiously. Morrow sighed mentally. The caution was a new and not so welcome addition. It was too soon to know if it was reactive or due to the stroke. No doubt time would tell.

Tom looked at him and growled playfully, "What did I say about calling me, Sir? It's Tom, remember. We've known each other for years." Seeing the look that crossed Tony's face, he cursed his thoughtlessness._ Damn!_

"I wanted to have a chat because according to your medical reports, you’ve been cleared to return to desk duty and you just need to requalify on the range - which you already did today, apparently. So… really the only thing that we are waiting on now is clearance from the shrinks and reading the last interim report from the psychologist, you've cleared most of the barriers to be signed off. I just wanted to make sure that you still want to come back to Homeland, Tony. I know Gibbs wants you to go back to work for him," Tom questioned him, careful to stay neutral.

He could see Tony's furrowed brow and he got a sinking feeling in his gut. "It's okay if you want to go back to them, Tony. You were only here for a week before you were injured. I understand that you might feel more secure back with your old team…they were your family… " He halted as he noticed Tony's look of distress accompanied by his hand held aloft, palm exposed, indicating that he wanted Morrow to stop.

"No, Sir um Tom. Uh…you don't understand. I don't want to go back to NCIS; I don't even remember them, anyway. Even with Gibbs, I have only vague memories of meeting him in Baltimore where we worked a case with my old partner Danny Price," He stated, his features pained as he thought of his former partner Danny.

That memory was still incredibly tender and although Morrow thought he was recalling his meeting with Gibbs; he was struck by his facial expression. It looked as if it was still incredibly painful as if it occurred yesterday and Tom's heart gave a lurch.

That was when Morrow realised, that for Tony; to all intents and purposes it probably was if it happened recently. One of the permanent deficits wrought by the stroke was that his memory for the last eight years had been wiped away completely. The year before that was also somewhat patchy and unreliable, too.

At first when he'd regained consciousness, Tony had been determined to regain his memories and refused to accept that the memory loss might be permanent. He'd driven himself crazy trying to remember those eight years, until eventually with a lot of support he'd finally grieved and come to an acceptance that his memories were gone. Probably gone forever, since the scans revealed he had diffused neuronal cell death in various parts of his brain.

According to the experts, while many areas of the brain carried some degree of redundancy that could be coaxed into being trained to perform tasks that they didn't normally do, memories that had been stored and destroyed were another matter entirely. Of course, there was no way to know definitively if the neurons storing those eight to nine years were actually destroyed, in which case the memory loss was utterly permanent and there was nothing to be done.

The second scenario was somewhat more hopeful - if the damaged neurons were those that gave him access to the memories and it was access to, not the memories themselves that were damaged. If that was the case, then there remained a possibility that access may be rerouted via other neuronal pathways and access to some or all the memories may be re-established. However, even if that scenario came to pass, there was no way to know when or if it might occur.

Finally accepting that the memories of up to 25 percent of his life had been erased, quite possibly permanently had sent Tony into an emotional and physical tailspin. His rehab team had bullied him into attending a support group for survivors of strokes to help him cope. Although initially resistant, (_sometimes the language was a woefully inadequate tool to quantify behaviour and attitudes_, Tom concluded wryly) after Tony caved in and attended the peer support, he’d found it incredibly helpful. Along with his R&B ensemble, the survivors became a crucial factor in his social support system, since the only person Tony remembered from DC, albeit it barely, was Gibbs and he seemed to be uncomfortable in his presence.

Perhaps that was due to the intense need that seemed to ooze from Jethro's pores as he tried desperately to rebuild a relationship with Tony.

"Are you positive, Tony? They all know you and want you." Tom questioned him gently. He really wanted Tony to stay at Homeland, but it had to be his choice, not something he was coerced into doing.

"And that's the problem, um Tom.” Tony grimaced. ‘I don't remember them, but they know me and have all these expectations about how I was and how I should be. You said that I’d only worked here for a week before the attack and that means no one really knows me here, so it's no biggie that I don't remember them.

“But the people I used to work with keep saying things and looking at me like eager puppies. All hopeful, as if I'll suddenly remember them and when I don't, then they look all crushed like I've hurt them or let them down.” He looked frustrated, stressed and vulnerable.

“I can't deal with their expectations and disappointment. I've had to come to terms with years of lost memories and decide to face the future instead mourning the past but they either can't or aren't willing to do the same."

Morrow nodded; he could understand where Tony was coming from. The whole gang from NCIS seemed to think that it was just a question of time and effort for him to regain his memories, although Ducky as a doctor was a realist and had to understand why that wasn't likely to happen. But the rest of the team just wanted everything to return to normal and Gibbs and Abby, in particular, were so damned guilty that they'd do anything to entice him to return.

A_s if that would fix everything,_ Tom snorted cynically and Tony gave him a sidelong glance.

"Well Tony, as I told you before, Homeland is damned lucky that you decided to come to work for us. You're a helluva fine agent."

"Even if I can't remember being an agent, Sir?" His agent searched his face for comfort and reassurance that he still had a place and purpose after his exhaustive efforts to reclaim his life.

"All the things that make you an outstanding investigator, undercover operative and a leader are all still there, Tony. Much of it can be accessed by muscle or procedural memory, even if you don't have conscious recall. And the qualities you possess: your integrity, courage, intelligence, creativity, your empathy for victims and witnesses, your professionalism and your ability to make people talk to you, not to mention your awe-inspiring informational networks, they're all present and undamaged."

Seeing DiNozzo's doubts he continued. "Your short-term memory is fine, and you have proven that you can form new memories. I know that you're nervous lad, but I have absolute confidence that you'll do fine." Tom patted him on the shoulder in a fatherly fashion, his keen gaze taking in Tony's less than convinced visage.

"Look Kiddo, initially you'll be riding a desk but there is your team to build from the ground up and you need training in Homeland technologies, protocols and procedures, - so there's plenty to keep that active brain of yours busy. Plus, you have to cosy up to the whole damn building - buddy up to the guys and charm your way into all the ladies' good books. Then when you're ready, we'll get you and your team out in the field. It will be fine Tony. We'll just take it slow, but I know you and it's going to be a good thing."

Tony gave him an appreciative look that was tinged with cautious fondness. Although he didn't remember his former director who was now the current Assistant Director of Homeland Security, Tom had been there with him when he woke up in the hospital after he'd shocked everyone, regaining consciousness. Over the coming weeks as he attacked his rehab and physical therapy, his occupational therapy, speech therapy, music therapy and psych appointments, Tom had hung around unassumingly in the background, providing him with gentle encouragement that was often a welcome respite to the frenetic and emotional encouragement that his former teammates seemed determined to provide.

Morrow had always been quietly amused by DiNozzo's antics and felt a genuine fondness for him that went well beyond the fact he'd diffused one Leroy Jethro Gibbs' infamous bad temper in the bullpen and was the glue that held the MCRT together. And how could anyone not love the guy who could have chosen a much easier path in life than be the 'Gibbs Wrangler?'

Tom also experienced anger at his treatment after he'd left NCIS and Jenny Shepard had replaced him, but Morrow's somewhat restrained temperament always tended to be overpowered by more charismatic and eccentric personalities. Yet it had also been just the panacea and the gentle support that Tony was searching for as he struggled to reclaim his life. The former NCIS director really did mean what he'd said to Gibbs – he had always longed to be a father but never had the chance before.

The truth was that Tony was damned easy to care about, so Tom found his paternal side rising unbidden to the fore. And it was that paternal side which was telling him that there was something else that was troubling his new agent.

"Something else on your mind you want to talk about, Tony?" Morrow inquired ever so gently. He offered him a second cup of tea that he'd organised without fanfare, even as he'd requested a second coffee for himself.

"My old team at NCIS…" DiNozzo paused, obviously searching for the right words. "They… apologised to me for… their behaviour. They told me a whole lot of stuff that went down, bad stuff when I worked with them. Really cruel bullying stuff like when I was a kid at boarding school. Worse stuff than all the hazing I went through when I was at RIMA or the Police Academy since they were supposed to be my own team."

He finally stopped examining his shoes and made eye contact with his new boss. Morrow felt like someone had physically punched him in the gut when he saw the pain in DiNozzo's eyes. "I'm guessing this was the Cliffs Notes version. I mean the two junior agents, David and McGee looked like someone was holding a gun to their heads to make them admit it, so I gotta infer that they were just scratching the surface?" He questioned the older man uncertainly.

Tom smirked, "Good instincts, Tony. You put up with a heap of crap over the years that I'm sure that they neglected to mention or you would have gotten a fungal ear infection just listening to them working their way down the list… so yeah Cliffs Notes works well for me."

DiNozzo was still sharp as a tack and Morrow was proud that he could see beyond the crap apologies Jethro had forced them to make. Maybe he wasn't a parent but his ' need to make it better' instinct was screaming out, demanding that he do something. Looking closely at his agent … _wow seven months ago, when Tony was in a coma he never expected to be able to still be able to call him that…_ he was looking extremely disconsolate. Awkwardly, he moved closer to Tony and tentatively placed his hand on his shoulder.

Knowing he was taking a chance he said softly, "What's wrong, Son?"

Turning pain-filled eyes toward him, Tony asked softly, "What in the hell was wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you, Tony. Why would you ask that?

"Well if that was the case why else would I put up with that sort of abuse, Tom?"

Morrow for the second time that morning felt like someone punched him in the gut. Not a pleasant experience. He did not see this one coming. Taking a deep breath, he wondered what the hell to say to the distressed agent before taking the plunge.

"You know, Tony, I often wondered about that myself. I think you're intensely loyal and caring to people you regard as important to you… as your family. BUT... I don’t think that you were ever taught to demand those same things for yourself. You always cut everyone too much slack and they took advantage of your kind heart. I know you never liked to talk about your childhood, probably still don't but I think that you were so desperate to have a real family that you overlooked a lot of crap. Perhaps no one ever sat you down to explain that family, functional families, don't treat other family members like a pile of excrement."

"But there has to be something wrong with me, Tom," Tony objected. "Danny was my frie… my former homicide partner and he betrayed me. That much I can remember, unfortunately, and my fiancee, Wendy left me the night before the wedding, although I can't remember that which is probably a godsend. Then I learn that just about everyone on my old team treated me like a pile of crap. I must have been such a pathetic piece of shit...such a loser, ya know? They obviously thought all they had to do was apologise and I'd come crawling back again."

He said, looking at Tom intently, "Which you don't need to be concerned about. I'm not going back there!" he reassured his boss, proving that he may have lost a significant chunk of memory, but his ability to read other peoples’ tells hadn't been affected at all. "I deserve respect."

Morrow thought about the other consequence of his stroke that the neurologists thought permanent. Always slow to trust people, he had become almost pathologically so. Which wasn't such a bad trait per se for someone working at Homeland, but Tom worried that Tony would shy away from forming friendships, and that would be tragic for such a gregarious person.

He was also much slower to forgive transgressions against him these days, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, either. It did nonetheless point to the fact that the stroke had changed him irrevocably, and that was a tragedy.

Tom marvelled at the fact he'd bonded with the other stroke survivors and his band, but the support group facilitator explained that it was different from forming relationships with regular people. That was because they all understood each other in a way that no one who hadn't gone through what they had could begin to imagine. It was like they spoke an exclusive foreign language and knew what each other felt and thought, and that, Morrow decided, made it much easier for Tony to trust them.

That didn't hold true for most individuals that DiNozzo encountered though. It was definitely a siege mentality – us versus them point-of-view, even if it wasn't a conscious one on his part. Its purpose remained to protect him from being hurt, and Morrow knew that many people did indeed treat him differently when they discovered his history of amnesia.

How ironic was it though that when Gibbs was ready to prostrate himself before him and plead for forgiveness from Tony, and deservedly so in Tom's humble opinion, Tony didn't even realise what an earth-shattering gesture he was being offered. Nor was he all that appreciative of Gibbs attempts. The damage done to his memories of Jethro (never mind his damned stupid rules), combined with his processing of certain thoughts and emotions in the frontal cortex had subtly changed him. He was no longer the same eager to please agent striving to impress cold emotionally constipated authority figures, who ignored his efforts and his welfare. Nor it would seem was he so ready to forgive them their wrongdoings, either.

At the rehab centre, his first physical therapist had been cut straight from the same khaki cloth as a Gibbs doppelganger, right down to the ex-military monosyllabic, praise-miserly approach. A guy who honestly believed that tough love was going to motivate his newest client. But Tony had been suspicious and noncompliant and basically refused to work with the jerk.

He ended up working with a fairly inexperienced but kind young woman who was enamoured with movies and had a great laugh. Her gentle yet genuine praise seemed to motivate him, and he started making rapid strides in progress in a short time after she took over his case as his physical therapist.

Morrow viewed his agent with fondness mixed with satisfaction. Tony had been through a death-defying experience, and though it wasn't an encounter he'd survived unscathed, he had almost made it back to be able to resume a career he had been born to carry out. And that, frankly, was nothing short of a miracle.

Although Morrow couldn't help worrying about him, Tony had managed to find himself a new family, between his bandmates and his survivors' support group. He'd even started a tentative romantic relationship with Jemma, the bass guitarist in their T&B group, although both were keen to take it slow for the foreseeable future.

Now he stood at the precipice, poised to become the lead investigator of the newest team out of the DC office of Homeland Security. It was a stunning achievement in anyone's book but given the hurdles that he'd been forced to overcome over his tumultuous life so far, Tom was inordinately proud to know him. He looked forward to working closely with Anthony DiNozzo for many years to come.


	10. Attitudinal Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A high profile case hits the news but Tony's success doesn't go down well in some quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of this leaving story and I hope you enjoy it. Just a few thoughts on why I chose this ending. I see one of Tony's biggest psychological flaws is his readiness to forgive abusive treatment from friends and family. The only way that I could see him not falling back into that behavioural trait was the spiritual death if you like, of Very Special NCIS Agent Anthony DiNozzo. I must also give an enormous shout out to Arress for all her hard work as Beta and my writing buddy on this story. She made what can be a very lonely process great fun. Last warning, I've tweaked this chapter a fair bit so any faux pas are my bad.

12 months after Anthony DiNozzo's stroke:

Tom Morrow spied the bespectacled figure of Jimmy Palmer, Ducky's assistant and soon to be medical intern, sitting at a table with an empty seat. He also noted with a degree of satisfaction that there was quite a few personnel from Homeland Security in the audience of Ultramarine Blues Club, including two of Tony's new agents – Christopher Turlington and Heather James. Nodding to various people he knew, Morrow made his way to Jimmy's table, drink in hand.

"Do you mind if I join you, Jimmy?" He grinned as Jimmy gulped nervously, speechlessly shaking his head which Tom took to mean he didn't mind. When he parked his butt down on the chair, Jimmy looked so horrified he decided he might have made a mistake about his intentions, though.

They sat together silently listening as 'Strokin' the Blues' went through the first set of songs, consisting of their regular opening set. Later tonight, they were going to debut a new set that they'd been hard at work perfecting for several months now. One was an original song that Tony had written about his coma and journey back and there was another that was a collaboration. Jemma had composed the music for it and Tony wrote the lyrics, so the ensemble was quite nervous about performing the new songs for the first time. Tom had promised Tony that he would come down and give them moral support.

He was pleased to see so many of Tony's colleagues had shown up as well. Tony was very popular with his co-workers, which wasn't surprising. His team all loved working with him. Tom had noticed, however, that he held himself back from connecting with anyone on anything more than a professional level. He still wasn't sure if it was a result of brain damage from the stroke or simply some sort of defence mechanism to protect himself because of the memory deficit, which had been a difficult loss to come to terms with. The other possibility was it was the consequence of finding out that those people he worked with and had been told that he'd considered were family had treated him so poorly. He was still polite to his former teammates from NCIS but only saw them occasionally, usually at their urging. It seemed Jimmy was the exception to that rule.

"Glad you could come to support him tonight, Jimmy."

"I'm happy to, Sir. Tony's a really good guy and I'm glad to see him doing so well. To be brutally honest, I didn't expect him to make it back, given such a poor prognosis. He's done amazingly well. I know that the others are all disappointed that he's different now, but I don't care. Even if he doesn't remember me, he's still a great guy." He looked pensive.

"Actually, I'm kinda used to people not paying me much mind – and besides, I owe him." He confided. "He was so kind and supportive to me after that business with Michelle Lee, and really he always treated me as someone who had worth, even if I wasn't a special agent." He suddenly seemed aware of who he was conversing with.

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry, Sir. Dr Mallard reckons that I suffer from verbis fluxus," He babbled nervously. Seeing Morrow's confused expression, he chuckled. "Well that's the Latin form, sometimes he uses its common medical term. Perhaps you might be familiar with it. Logorrhea?" He quizzed.

Tom shook his head, "Sorry Jimmy I have no idea what either term means, but I hope it isn't a serious condition."

The young man who went by a variety of monikers, but missed Black Lung and Gremlin most of all, chuckled even more. "Dr Mallard would say that it is very serious, Sir, although it's commonly referred to as verbal diarrhoea."

Morrow chortled. "I see. Well, don't worry about it, m'boy. It's actually rather refreshing to have someone forget who I am for a change." And endearing, he finished silently. "Besides, I'm grateful to you for caring enough to forge a new friendship with Tony.

“Perhaps because you’re prepared to let the past go and look to the future, or maybe it's because you don't have any regrets about what your old friendship was like," He mused, thinking out loud. "It's good for him to have friends apart from his rehab buddies. He doesn't trust people easily anymore, I'm afraid.”

Palmer looked wistful. "He never did, he was always a really friendly guy, ready to help anyone who was hurt or in trouble, but Tony didn't make friends easily. I know what you mean though, he's even more guarded and suspicious about people's motives than ever, though I guess you'd need to have known him before all of this happened to tell the difference."

He hesitated, seeming to be having a heated mental debate before apparently deciding to speak up.

"I'm really glad that you've been looking out for him, Sir. Agent Gibbs used to do that when I first started out at NCIS, (even if his way of showing he cared totally sucked) before he stopped caring. But before Tony was hurt, he'd gone out of his way to make Tony's life a misery. Even if he doesn't remember how Gibbs treated him, I do."

His thin good-natured features turned uncharacteristically sour as he contemplated the past. "And even if Tony can’t say it, he's grateful for your support and I do know he's fond of you. His eyes get a little sparkle when he talks to me about what you've done for him or he mentions something you've said. I think you really helped in his recovery." Jimmy finished up, blushing and reminding Morrow of a bashful but endearing Opie Taylor on the Andy Griffith show.

Morrow felt a little ill at ease himself with the topic of conversation, but nonetheless he was happy to hear that Tony appreciated his rather fumbling efforts to support him. He was trying his best to be a father figure to a man who had no experience in being a son, yet he had no experience as a father so that probably made them Even-Steven. So, Jimmy's assessment was reassuring to say the least.

As far as Tom was concerned, Tony's father didn't count, having dealt with the objectionable cur when he'd had the misfortune of notifying him of his son's life-threatening injury and he was only interested in learning about how much money he stood to inherit from his son and worried that his long term medical need might eat away at his saving.

Since both men were somewhat uncomfortable with the sensitive and emotional topic, Tom decided to change the subject to something less confronting. Grinning roguishly, he asked," So, tell me about what's going on back at the old place, Jimmy. Is Abby still not talking to Gibbs? Does the MCRT have its fourth agent, or is Gibbs still insisting that Tony will return?"

Jimmy heaved a sigh of relief and chuckled nervously. "Yeah, they're talking again, but Abby's different around him these days. It's like he's a friend and co-worker, but none of the _Gibbs walks on water and can do no _wrong stuff anymore. Not her surrogate dad either, you know? It's hinky, but at least McGee and Dr Mallard don't have to interpret her forensic reports, which is a good thing all around." He chuckled again.

"Oh, and Gibbs picked a Probie and she's a Tony clone. She's a former cop and always cracking jokes – I like her!" He finished up defiantly.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "I take it the others don't?"

"Mmm – more like they are always trying to slap her down because she's _just a cop_."

Tom nodded sagely. "Ah, I see. So, competition is still very fierce on the team?"

"I'd say it’s worse than ever if that's possible. Ziva is furious that the director appointed McGee as senior field agent instead of her. Says she is much better qualified and either undermines him every chance she gets, or she orders him around.” Seeing Tom’s raised eyebrow and an unspoken question he replied, “Yeah, and he constantly caves in and even if he tries to stand up to her when she pulls out a paperclip he folds immediately.”

Jimmy paused for breath before dishing more goings-on at NCIS. “Let’s see... well, McGee hates Trina because even though she’s still a Probie, she's worked undercover in Vice in New York City and she shoots better than he does.”

He chortled, “Oh, and she's pretty dang handy with a computer, too, although not in Tim's league, so of course, she's not like Tony in that regard, I suppose. But apart from that she kind of a female Tony." He concluded his account thoughtfully, before noting Morrow's sardonic smile.

"What, did I say something stupid?"

Tom shook his head, "No, it's just that when it was only Tony and Gibbs, who do you think did the basic run of the mill stuff like computer searches and basic tech work for the MCRT?"

"Um… I guess I just thought it was Abby, Sir. So, if not Abby, who did it?"

"Well, yes, Dr Sciuto did all the complex hacking and coding, but she has plenty of other forensic work to do for Gibbs, not to mention all the other teams, too. So, she didn't have time to do the run of the mill stuff as well. Let's just say that Tony isn't quite as clueless when it comes to computers and technology as he likes people to think.”

Sensing some scepticism, Morrow gave some examples that Jimmy should recognise. “When Todd joined the team, for example, I remember that Tony calibrated and operated the ground-penetrating radar. He also wired a wireless router into the telephone line so they could triangulate the direction of a rogue sniper, and he routinely used to set up their computer networks when they were on cases away from the office."

He grinned wickedly before going on to reveal a prank that none of his teammates had ever picked up on. "After coming to work for Gibbs, he took a speed typing course in self- defence, because he had to deal with all Jethro’s paperwork plus his own, too."

Jimmy looked amazed and Tom guffawed, amused to have shocked Ducky's young assistant so easily. "How do you think that he managed to get all his own paperwork and reports done and Jethro's extra stuff finished in a timely fashion and still have time to play games on his computer, Black Lung?” he asked playfully.

“Despite fancying themselves as hotshot investigators, they never did figure out the reason why Gibbs didn't kill him for mucking around was that he'd already completed it and he was engaging in problem-solving in his own rather unique fashion."

Jimmy looked confused, "Why keep it a secret, though?"

Tom shrugged, "You know what? I really have no idea why, but then again, why let them all think that he had just done Phys. Ed. at college? Perhaps he didn't want to show up Jethro who is a notorious techno dinosaur, or maybe he wanted to make McGee feel like his computer skills were his speciality on the team. Knowing Tony, it was possibly his own weirdly Machiavellian method of boosting his Probie's self-esteem when he joined the MCRT."

"Well, what a colossal waste of time, if that really was his intention," Jimmy commented sardonically. Seeing the Assistant Director's confusion, he explained, "While he might appear lacking in confidence, even in his first year Tim was convinced he was better than Tony and there wasn't anything that he could teach him.”

Tom quirked his eyebrow. “How so?”

"Um, like when McGee refused to listen to him when Tony tried to warn him about the presence of poison ivy at a crime scene and he refused to listen. He ended up covered in it, even his privates." Jimmy shook his head in a combination of amusement and scorn.

Tom sniggered. "I always wondered about that. I just assumed that Tony must have been pulling a prank. Although, I could never understand how a scoutmaster could get caught out by poison ivy, twice."

He exchanged a conspiratorial grin with Palmer. "Frankly, I was always disappointed that that incident never made it into his Agent McGregor books. It would have been very funny."

“Yep, unlike the Polynesian autopsy assistant, Pimmy Jalmer who was a necrophiliac with a shoe fetish,” Jimmy growled, oddly enough still unable to see anything funny in how he’d been portrayed in Deep Six.

“Exactly. It would be a damned shame if someone decided to give Mr Gemcity a taste of his own medicine or sue the pants off him,” Tom commented innocently, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Gibbs barged into the Director's Office without bothering to knock, since he never did. Not for Jenny, not for Leon, and sometimes not even for Morrow.

Once inside, he grabbed the remote control up from the director’s desk and switched the television to ZNN, turning up the volume. It showed Homeland Security Assistant Director Tom Morrow fronting a press conference to announce his newest team had broken a terrorist cell hiding out under everyone’s noses in the capital and targeting the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Although they’d held back that crucial detail from the press, simply stating that they had thwarted an attack on a high-profile target after some brilliant investigative work by his newest team leader and outstanding team.

Gibbs muted the sound and gave Vance his patented death ray stare while Leon chewed away on his toothpick impassively.

"This connects somehow to one of your cases, Gibbs?" the director asked.

"Nope."

"So why are you bringing it to my attention?" he asked disinterestedly.

"Because, Leon, Tom gave me a heads-up about it earlier. That new team leader - it's DiNozzo and his team."

Leon just glared at him unblinkingly. His eyes reminding Gibbs of a reptilian stare, cold-blooded. "And so… your point would be…" He was interrupted by his private line ringing.

"Hello, Leon."

"Hello, Philip," he greeted the SecNav.

"Were you watching Tom Morrow's presser, Leon?"

"Yes, we were." He answered his superior cautiously.

"Well, Morrow rang me to brag about their coup and he just happened to mention that HIS agent who is responsible for their stunning success used to work for us before you and yours hounded him out of NCIS. He thanked me for tossing him aside – said our loss was their gain."

He paused and Vance debated whether to speak. Before he could decide, Philip Davenport effectively cut him off.

"Are you out of your tiny mind, Leon? What were you thinking?" He ranted, as Leon tried in vain to interject. "NCIS is just a pissant little agency. We can ill afford to be losing gifted agents like DiNozzo to our sister agencies when we do manage to recruit them.” He ranted over the telephone and Leon was glad he wasn’t in his office.

“Bad enough that the big boys attract so many talented agents already. We don't have to give them our MVPs too. FIX IT, Leon. Fix it NOW!"

Leon gritted his teeth. "And how am I supposed to do that, Sir?"

The SecNav snorted rudely. "You know what? I. Don’t. Care. Do whatever you have to, to make it happen. Offer him his own team, offer him a deputy directorship in Europe. Hell, offer him your own damned fucking job if that’s what it takes, but get him back." And with that parting shot, Philip Davenport slammed down the phone – hard!

Looking up in irritation, he realised that Gibbs was still there watching and listening with that annoying half-smile of his on his face. Damn him! There were times (like right now) when he longed to punch him.

"You still here? Gloating, Gibbs?"

"Been waiting a long time for this. Just wanted to say I told ya so, Leon. You were always biased when it came to DiNozzo, but he's damned good."

"As if you can talk, he left because of you, Gibbs."

"Yeah, but even when I started to take him for granted, I always knew just how good he was. You could never see it."

Vance scowled. "SecNav has ordered me to get him back."

Gibbs looked sad, although not for his boss' sake. "He won't come back, Director. YOU let him go. If you’d made him serve out his notice, I could have talked him around, but you couldn’t wait to get rid of him, could ya?”

Jethro would never forgive Leon, blaming him for everything that had happened after he accepted DiNozzo’s resignation. Well, he wanted to rub salt into the wounds. “And now we've lost him... for good. Gonna have to live with the consequences, we both will."

He strode off, furious at Leon but maybe even angrier at himself for giving Vance the opportunity to mess with his team.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Gibbs exited Vance's office and briefly thought about going back to the bullpen but decided to go out and get a fresh round of coffee instead. Being in the bullpen these days was akin to torture in his opinion. It had always been like being around a bunch of kids on a playground, and he’d often been irritated but since DiNozzo's departure, all the playful good humour had been sucked out of the place. Now it was just constant mean-spirited bickering and backstabbing. He'd hoped when Trina Cameron joined the team that her sense of humour would take the edge off the nastiness.

Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out all that well, possibly because she was just too much like DiNozzo.

Vance had insisted that McGee be promoted to senior field agent and Ziva was pissed. Of course, there was no way that a Mossad Liaison Officer could possibly be appointed as SFA even with her Kidon training. He could see why she resented being ordered around by Tim, whose field experience was far inferior to her own. Unlike DiNozzo's cop training, McGee's MIT background meant he would always lag behind Ziva out in the field, and for that reason alone, she would never respect him in the position.

Hell, she'd barely tolerated Tony, who was more than capable. So honestly, what chance did the 'Elf Lord' have to ever gain her respect?

He'd tried to explain to Leon when Tony first resigned that McGee might be ready to be an SFA, but that didn't mean he was ready to be Gibbs' SFA. Of course, Vance thought he knew better! And so, the tension rose as Ziva and McGee snarked back and forth, and when Trina, the new Probie had tried to diffuse the pressure, they'd turned on her so viciously that she'd simply stopped bothering.

Jethro figured that it was only a matter of time before Cameron requested a transfer. She might share certain qualities with DiNozzo, but not his sense of loyalty or his habit of constantly taking one for the team. Sadly, one year later, Jethro was only now beginning to realise exactly what he'd lost… what they'd all lost.

Abby, with all the new age crap that she blathered on with, had always claimed that Tony was the heart and soul of the team, the glue that held them all together. It looked as if she'd been one hundred percent correct, even if he had poo-pooed the idea when she said it. And it wasn't until now that he noticed just how intolerant and superior Ziva was or how smug and sulky the Elf Lord was, either. Maybe it was due to the presence of the Probie that he saw them from a fresh perspective, but it wasn't a terribly flattering point of view.

McGee, meanwhile, whined about all the extra paperwork, insisting that DiNozzo had never worked this hard as SFA. Impatient with his complaining, Gibbs had acquainted him with the hag-dragons down in the Administrative, Accounting and HR departments, who gave him a fast education about the amount of paperwork required of a senior field agent at NCIS. Then Gibbs gave him a brutal education about what was expected of HIS senior field agent and handed over a good portion of his own crap that he considered to be particularly trivial and made him bad-tempered – well, more bad-tempered.

Tony had offered to do it for the well-being of the team, knowing how much it pissed him off and he'd become accustomed to not having to bother with it. No way on earth was he going to go back to doing it now. He'd already lost DiNozzo – why should he suffer any more pain?

Nor was it just the paperwork. McGee honestly expected Jethro to take him into his confidence during cases and tell him what he was thinking, but that was never gonna happen. DiNozzo never needed him whispering in his ear, telling him what was what! Tony had known what Gibbs was thinking and would guide the rest of the team in the right direction, but McGee would simply sit pouting at his computer like when he was a junior agent or worse, arguing hell-for-leather with Ziva.

Jethro remembered when Caitlyn Todd had labelled McGee passive-aggressive after she’d profiled him. He'd felt a strong sense of empathy with the young agent since his last wife had told him as she was leaving that he was an annoying SOB and she couldn't live with someone who was a posterchild for passive-aggressive BS, anymore. That was right before she whacked him over the head with a baseball bat. But any sense of kinship with McGee's passive-aggressiveness quickly drained away when he had to deal with it on a daily basis.

DiNozzo had the stones to call him out when he became too obsessed or drove the team too hard and it threatened the team being able to function, or he'd question decisions that Gibbs had made which he felt couldn't be let go. He doubted that Tim could overcome his submissive nature sufficiently to confront him when he needed it. And Gibbs admitted he DID need it.

Let's face it, his SFA hadn't been able to stand up to his baby sister when she bullied him into not reporting her involvement in the death of a US Sailor, even though Tim was a federal agent and he was breaking the law he’d taken an oath to uphold.

God knows, he'd been guilty over the years of protecting friends and family, but it had been a conscious decision on his part, not one he'd been bullied into.

Not being able to stand up for yourself or your sworn duty was a serious impediment for being an effective SFA. Hell - even Abby and Ziva knew that they could bully McGee into doing whatever they wanted, or in the case of the Israeli, scare him into doing it. And that made it difficult for people to trust or respect him professionally. Plus, it made him a serious security risk!

Which was precisely why Tim wasn't ready to fill DiNozzo's shoes, might never be ready, but then the MIT grad had never bothered to learn from him while he had the opportunity. Convinced that a mere cop with a Phys. Ed. degree would never be able to teach an MIT grad anything of consequence, McGee had stubbornly gone his own way, looking to outshine his superior whenever possible.

Stopping at the coffee cart, Gibbs purchased three extra strong coffees and sat down on a nearby bench to drink at least one, hoping it would fortify him for his return to the bullpen. Thinking about Leon's extreme discomfort following SecNav's phone call, he couldn't stop grinning, and he really didn't want to since Leon totally earnt it.

Davenport had been loud enough for Gibbs to hear most of what he had to say. He felt a malicious sense of satisfaction that Leon was now between a rock and a hard place; it couldn't happen to a more deserving idiot.

The truth was that he blamed Vance for the whole damned mess. Sure, he'd been a bastard and had driven DiNozzo away, but if Vance had insisted that Tony work out his notice instead of being in such a hurry to show him the door, Gibbs would have been able to talk him around. He always could – he knew Tony's most secret insecurities and vulnerabilities and used them to get what him to do what he wanted.

All he had to say to Tony was was that he needed him, and the man would give his life for him if he demanded it. He could always talk him around… before his coma. Now, Tony didn't know him from Adam and any ability to manipulate or even influence him was non-existent.

Honestly, it had been the ultimate in irony when Tony had finally woken up. Gibbs was determined to reclaim what was his and he'd done what he swore never to do. He apologised, in order to get DiNozzo back on the team and watching his six once more. And then he'd realised the great cosmic joke that had been played on them all when Tony had barely even blinked.

He'd accepted the apology calmly and politely, but without the falling to the ground in shock that Gibbs had expected. And the quirk of fate was that Tony had no idea of the enormity of the gift he'd offered him since he had no idea who the hell Gibbs was. No idea who any of them were.

The real tragedy was he'd left the apology far too long to offer, and now it was too late for either of them to reap any benefit from his remorse. In a real sense, it was almost as if Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had ceased to exist, as had any friendship that existed between them, and Gibbs was devastated.

He didn't really have many friends, certainly not enough that he could afford to lose such a loyal one as Anthony DiNozzo. Yet he'd throw his loyal St. Bernard aside and now he had lost him…if the quacks were right, lost him forever

Oh, sure, DiNozzo might still be alive, and he'd always be grateful for that fact, but he'd paid a huge price for his actions, they both had. Having temporarily lost his own memory, he knew the sense of isolation, the disorientation, and the emptiness it had caused, so a tiny part of him still wasn't prepared to accept that Tony's memory loss was permanent. He couldn't because to admit that to himself would be to admit that he had destroyed a friendship; no, not just one, but several, and that guilt on top of everything else would crush him.

He'd refused to accept the loss was permanent; he’d recovered his own memories, after all. Tony had survived against the odds, this time and in the past, so he had to believe DiNozzo would get his memory back in the end if he wanted it badly enough. He had to admit, though, that it wasn't only Tony who was badly affected by his memory loss, it had impacted on many of them.

Even though he knew that DiNozzo hadn't deliberately been hurt or had a stroke and lost his memory, it still hurt to have been forgotten after all they'd been through together over the years. It felt like they weren't important enough to be remembered, and it made him understand just how much his own amnesia must have affected everyone around him, too. But he clung to the maxim that Ducky often quoted that 'hope was the poor man's bread'. To give up hope was tantamount to admitting that the old DiNozzo was as good as dead, which he would never do.

And meanwhile, although his former SFA was clearly uncomfortable with them all at the moment, Gibbs still had high hopes that Tony's forgiving nature would allow him to make amends and they could reconnect again, even if that did mean starting anew. His former agent wasn't capable of bearing a grudge, no matter how badly he was treated.

Although he wanted the old Tony back, complete with his memories of the last eight years, he'd settle for the new version if he had to. He'd even made it his business to ensure that Morrow and every damned one of the agents on DiNozzo's team had copies of the files on each and every dirtbag that Tony had pissed off and/or put in prison, along with their mug shots, over the past eight years he'd worked at NCIS (and there'd been a hell of a lot of them) since DiNozzo wouldn't remember them if they came after him. While some might think that it wasn't a good idea for him to be working in the field when he couldn't remember, Gibbs knew in reality it would be even more dangerous for Tony if he was a civilian and didn't have people watching his six. At least this way his team could keep their eyes and ears open for trouble.

Thinking of the last twelve months, he hadn't realised just how much he would miss Tony's admiration and acceptance, not until he didn't have it anymore, but it couldn't be gone for good. Palmer was already making good progress reconnecting with him, and his success gave Jethro hope, as well as encouraged him that Palmer’s inroads would make it easier for Gibbs.

He was willing to concede that perhaps he'd lost Tony as his senior field agent because he had taken him for granted for far too long. But if he was really being honest with himself for once, it was also more than that. With his extremely alpha personality, he'd subconsciously viewed DiNozzo as a potential rival ever since his hiatus, mostly because the guy was just that good. His success over at Homeland Security bore that out.

On a subconscious level, the former Marine had recognised his potential for what it represented – a rival - even if DiNozzo didn't know just how good he really was. In the back of his mind, he'd secretly been scared that Tony would show him up, would usurp him, so he'd made sure to keep him firmly in his place. And if the two junior agents took their cues from him and used DiNozzo for target practice as well, that was all to the good. It served his purpose.

Gibbs sat there on the bench in the sunshine, sipping on his second cup of coffee, dreading returning to the bullpen, a place he used to think of as his second home. He thought back to what had started this whole mess, and he realized moodily he’d gotten exactly what he wished for all those months ago.

Tony had definitely gotten an attitude adjustment, and not in a way that Jethro would ever have envisaged.

For his vanity, his hubris and his paranoia, they’d both paid a very costly price.

~Finis~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided it's time to retire my current avatar as I post this last chapter. In case anyone is the slightest bit interested in why I have a letter i with a heart-shape rather than a dot as my avatar, it was my way of giving a reviewer who told me that I write like a thirteen-year-old girl a metaphoric F/U! Anyway, with the combination of moderating comments and/or flipping them the bird with my juvenile avatar, they seem to have grown tired of harassing me. So I'm going with an avatar that I used for my Quantum Bang 2019 fix-it. Speaking of which, I finally bit the bullet and signed up again for 2020. Hopefully, this time around RL will be kinder and I will get it finished without half killing myself in the process.
> 
> BTW, I've noticed that several of you have gone back and reread Rising to the Bait - probably in anticipation of me finally finishing this albatross around my neck. Latest sit rep if you're interested, I am almost finished writing the first epilogue. Yep, you read that right - the first epilogue! There are two - one three months after the story ends, and the second epilogue is set a year after the end of the story. Trust me it makes sense to me lol. BTW if anyone who has reread the story recently is interested in assisting me in compiling approx 55,000 words/scenes into manageable chapters, I'd love to hear from you. I'm without a support crew right now and that makes the progress slower than I'd like. But rest assured, this will be done - I'm on the home stretch now.

**Author's Note:**

> Just an update on my writing status and stories after a horror year where RL prevented me from writing. I'm almost finished work on my long-running WIP Rising to the Bait. While I'm mortified it has taken me so long to complete it, I'm finally happy with the ending and hope to post the final chapters in the coming weeks. When RTTB is completed, I'll focus on posting my 2019 Quantum Bang story here too.


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